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Rated: E · Poetry · Psychology · #1679209
Too much noise, too many sounds in ordinary life
WHITE NOISE


An echo…an imprint of where something was once.
Sounds colliding, crushing, too hot to hear.
Too loud this madness, too long this slow dance.
Sizzling, searing above that barely visible piece of chaos.
White.
Noise! Too loud to hear. Only a space between total madness and peace.
On the edge, watch the madness swirl, a sickening mix of sounds, building, growing ever louder till there is nothing.
The emptiness echoes. Sending me staggering and yielding once again to the pure power.
Looking across that line dividing sanity into its many unequal parts.
The noise leaves the space dim against the pounding.
An off key orchestra. The precious melody lost, art trapped in the absurd sound.
I search somewhere for the solitary moment when I surrendered through the shattered remains of who I was.
White.
An absence of sound.
White noise, too hot to touch.
Noise! White-too loud to see.
Thoughts covered by the veil of want, trapped by the endless parade of clanging, clinging, crashing sounds.
Just noise-white blazing in its absence.
Beyond the echo of day, all the pieces of chaos never quite fitting together leave uneven places.
Sounds of frustration travel, shattering the fragile peace.
Above and beyond the sounds banging past my limits.
Too loud to speak, too hot to hear my voice.

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