Taken down to the ruins Where silence begets silence. Death eases out of rusty sands. Oblivion cries wordless, Face pink, desperate, mad, Birthed in the cracks Of shattered stones. So here I take my rest, Plopped down amongst tearful Faces forgotten In mother earth’s curdled, Rotten breast. And in me Green tendrils Press behind my … More Quiet Rests in Me
Three years past. Still I feel The lifeless clamber Of quiet along my veins, The sightless fingers choking My parched throat. Three years. Three years ago the silence Rolled through the buzzing Air and settled Deep down in the deepest Crevice of my ears and eyes. Three years ago the silence Deafened me.