Static Screen

Some downpours are percussion
So fierce I confuse it for static hum
The world around me crackling so hard with black and white
That it has washed over in gray blur
It stirs in me a discontent
The white noise dampening my senses
My bones buzzing in winces
It’s an electric fence that keeps me aching stone still
Until I trance-walk into that ghastly screen,
Dripping, dissipating, fragmented, unseen
I will sing with the fuzz
The incessant tap dance of wet haze,
Until I melt into rhythm, swallow hard… erase

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Published in: on April 20, 2018 at 9:16 pm  Comments (1)  
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