White Noise and Apathy

A slow moving symphony…

Meaning in Rhythm

She winds the clock back so it can continue ticking forward. Sigh to the metronome, breathe in time to its beat.

There were two of them there, listening; a set of shallow breaths. Each was hung on a slow heart beat. And as their hearts grew braver they gave way to heavy sighs. Until soon there was only one heart beat, that clung to one breath.

And as a steady breath rose and fell, outside the rain fell in time to-

nothing.

It fell oblivious to the rhythm or the ticking clock.

Tired Eyes

I’m afraid of daybreak. When it comes it means it’s over. This night we built. We put our hearts and souls into it and soon all that’s left is memory. And you can’t touch memory. I can’t feel this night once it’s over. And it will all be tainted by the broken body I wake up in.
So please save the daylight for someone who needs it. Someone praying to scare the monsters from under her bed. And leave me here with these monsters. These guised leaders of truth. Let me speak and laugh and live night; live dark. These false tales are comforting to clouded minds.

Dirty Bones, Filthy Blood

I held your gaze as I dragged the dagger down your gut. Though, despite my full intention, my eyes watered when you bled. And now I try to sew the wound, frantic, scrambling; but the pieces won’t go back the way they were. My stained red hands shake before me like someone else’s- and won’t go back the way they were. I stand now a criminal, as dirty blood pumps through my veins. And when I pull the sharp blade out- it can never be the same. My filthy heart keeps beating on, a polluted beat, polluted beat, my filthy heart keeps beating on, a soiled grubby beat.

But my ego blushed when you said my name, so let’s not play this wicked game- of Red Rover, Red Rover, you always call me over, and my heart breaks when I abstaine. So when I ran full force to you, I closed my eyes too tight. I listed to my bad blood pounding, but knew it wasn’t right. So that when I felt my body break beneath yours I pushed back, ignoring reason. I tried to start a fire with our grinding bones, careless of who would burn. Now bits of me have burned away until I’m no longer who I thought I was- until

I’m

no longer

someone I can

trust.

But these panting dogs are watching me- my chest tightens, as theirs heave. They growl when I draw too close, sensing my deceit. I wish these dogs would turn away, but I dare not turn first. These dirty dogs can sense my guilt; I stand forever cursed.

These ruins where you made me

into what I am;

stand withering and decaying

and turning into sand.

I knew the day would follow

were you would stand accused

and with your heart of hollow

leave me bitter and bemused.

For you were always callous,

acrid, caustic and insane.

When I was free of malice

in my youth when I was tame.

My tiny eyes of porcelain,

my lace on gown and cap;

the woman that I could’ve been

died on your very lap.

The father that you’ve been to me,

the snake with wormy fruit,

has ruined who I could have been

and left me as tribute.

Sick Love

   I wish it didn’t make me sick when we kissed, and my hand didn’t pull away from yours. But when I reach up to feel your face it’s a chore. You feel like brambles and your breath smells toxic. Like the stuff under the sink. You never want to reach under there, and yet here I am. Always reaching under, holding my breath.

   I wish you wouldn’t touch me there. My legs, closed together in protest to greedy prodding fingers are so casually ignored. Your groping hands leave red marks on my skin, like Indian burns.

   I stare into your eyes and pretend it doesn’t hurt, hoping you’ll hear my tormented mind screaming. The child, foolishly pretending her older brother’s rubbing hands against her wrist are aren’t heating. But you never hear. You always kiss me with your window cleaner breath and act like we’re in love. And as I wait patiently for you to finish with my lips I pretend like we’re in love. And I lay wide-eyed trying to forget your sweaty body pressed to mine. 

Principal’s Office

The worst part was the people walking by. I tried to look upset – make my eyes water. Maybe then they’d think I had been bullied or hurt. I kicked at the grey synthetic carpet with my wet runners, slow dancing internally to the squeaky symphony.

A steady gaze from a secretary cut short my musical career. There was no fooling her with my puppy dog eyes. She had seen my walk of shame at the principal’s heals and witnessed his stern words ushering me to my seat. She could see me for the convict that I was.

The room was sterile. Asphyxiating. I found myself choking on my thoughts.

I tried to remember why I had done it. The only thing that came to mind was white rage.

I thought of my mother and felt sick.

Some of the other kids had said something about a black book. If your name got written there it would never go away. A black stain on your past.

I thought of my dad and felt worse.

The infernal tic tocking was enough to drive a person mad.

Lunatic.
Yes, that was why I did it.
Luna-tic tock, tic. tock. tic. tock…

I pretended to have magic powers. That I could crawl into people’s minds and curl around them. Maggot my way into their hearts. I wish I knew what I was supposed to say.

My powers changed and I was invisible. The only thing left behind was a peaceful shiny aura. At least this way I don’t leave behind a sour taste in their mouths.

My eyes willed Mr. Goffman’s door to the wall. Welded the hinges shut – imprisoning.

The handle turned.

My superpowers broke.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to say.

Ball Room Blitz

Her laughter grew louder, with fewer and fewer breaths in between until it was just a steady stream. No one knew what to say. Everyone stared uncomfortably at each other, then back at her. The joke had not been very funny. 

She stood doubled over, the room silent but for her hysterical laughter. Suddenly everyone felt awkward in their long swaying dresses and tight suits. Men pulled uncomfortably at their ties. What is wrong with this woman? Who invited her? A young man approached her cautiously and touched her lightly on the back. In one swift motion she swung her body straight up to face the boy, and unhesitatingly pulled his face to hers. Never ceasing with her maddening laughter she pressed her body against his. The boy, shocked, grabbed her by the arms and gently tried to redirect her movement, but she was committed. She grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and held his face against hers. 

“See?” She shouted, still holding a fistful of the young man’s hair. “We all came here to have a good time! So what are you waiting for?” Again she threw her head back and launched into a cacophony. She brought her gaze back to the stunned crowd. “What? Afraid to let loose? Don’t act like you’re not all pleased you’ll have something to talk about at the end of the night. I’m probably the most interesting thing that’s happened to you all year!” Her smile never left her face. It stood unwavering like some kind of permanent fixture. “I’ll leave you to you’re lives now,” she concluded, “if that’s what you’d like. I promise you won’t be bothered by me again.” As she left she grabbed a bottle of champagne from a nearby table and made an eccentric bow before turning out the door.

The group slowly started moving again, with growing rumbles of conversation. The young man stood and watched the room diffuse and return to normal.  

“I’m leaving …

“I’m leaving now.” she said.

“I know it.”

The dialogue was curt and unflourished. Neither wanted to extend or elaborate.

Wire Veins.

The digital seeps through my pores and corrupts. I feel the rust setting in as I am integrated with the machine. My vision is coded and binary. I filter numbers and interpret raw fact. I see not but objective data. The sunset is rendered a subset of hues and light frequencies, and the magic is gone.

 

My emotions are subdued and robotic in nature. I run on electricity and mass produced food. I remember the human specimen that was once myself with apathetic detachment. I am new and high tech. Streamlined to perfection, I leave behind the whimsical absurdity of a soul. I am here to expand. To harvest the resources left to me. I am here to devour.

Anechoic Chamber

An anechoic chamber is one

in which there is no sound. Careful skill is placed

in removing every decibel.

Once inside, no one can hear a thing. So let the music play. 

Let the lighting storm of sound

make its full procession. 

 

Once inside there is no echo. 

You cannot listen to reverberations. 

You can let your throat go numb

and feed the walls.

Nourish them with sweet wails loud. 

 

A comfortable silence is a difficult thing to achieve.