The quietness roars in my mind.
Time is fluid and flows through my fingers.
Nothing seems to get near me and I am alone in a crowd.
Sleep blankets most of the house,
Everybody is here but not here.
I seem to hover about finding no peace.
Laughter echoes, echoes, echoes.
The machines have stopped and are silent.
Fingers smash at the keyboard emitting egotistical tripe.
It's not fit to print,
But still fights its way out of my brain.
Not making sense as I smash the words onto the page.
Oh for peace to overtake me.
Quieting my deepest thought
No thought, no more.
Only the cries of a foolish man can be heard.
In this world I am but a speck in millions of specks.
I stand here and look around and die a bit more
Because of the pain that comes from the earth.
Can't we see the destruction?
The fans blow me back to awareness:
I see your sleeping figure and I want to become one with it
So I can rest.