The Sound of Silence

I was only eight-teen when Lucy kissed my ears with the sound of magicians music, my heart she touched with sweet meaningless mystery that brought curiosity. Lucy danced and dabbled with my eyes, when I did not know where to lay my vision. She made me safe like a infant in situations with dull dim roots that broke soil of washed up memories and hungry youth.

Lucy followed me as if I was a prophet with unfinished business, right behind me all the way. She was like a shadow that traces your feet with your steps and keeps up with your pace. She told me to be at ease both mind and body. Until one day Lucy decided to take me in her mouth just to spit me out. She watched me lose faith, as she picked random thoughts from my unorganized brain. Plucking and pealing each one without care, till my mind switched off as I fell into a made up world inside my subconsciousness.

I saw the Devil, I heard his malignant voice whispering things in my ear that I could not block out or disbelieve. He took away my dignity, as he locked me away naked and exposed. In a place so dark and cold where no one could get to, I could not find my way home. I waited there, all alone as I cried and screamed in hope that somewhere out there someone could hear me.

I counted numbers on my fingers, forward and backwards. I waited for what felt like years, stuck in my own confinement of my sickened soul. The Devil kept me in his shadows as I slowly slipped from reality and became lost in the pitch darkness. I dug my frail pale hands in the dirt ground, feeling as though it might hold something, anything.

A sequence of familiar numbers came rolling in, tracing my body with answers I could not see because the eclipse had consumed any form of light and left me blind, where I could not even see me.

Suddenly I am in a forest of my childhood where I felt shame, but the memory differs from the former one, for I am alone and the air stings my skin. I walk searching for a sign or clue, that I am not alone, that maybe they are lost here too. I stumble upon a window that sits alone baring no home, Its trim calling my name and wanting for me to come in.

I climb threw with feet made of weights and hands made of glue. I can not bare to raise my eyes to look, a feeling of being in the wrong place at the wrong time comes to mind. A ghost made up of anger, lacking any chance of empathy sits frigid in front of me. As bottles break and shatter the silence, wishful thinking starts to fade and wither, my hand reaching out trying to grab a hold before it slips away. I just miss it as my fingers touch and skim the surface.

The ghost ravishes my heart and body, wearing a smile over a smirk for a mask, as the ghost lights a fire inside me so I can burn up and never exist. I run frantically away as fast as I can. I do not look back, I remind myself that I am my only hope left. I reach a grassy field, with a sunless sky that burns blood red.

I make the mistake of looking back to see the ghost catching up to me, I see a undistinguished structure out in the distance and I try to move faster as the fire inside starts to lick away my rib cage and begins to melt away the fragments of my skin, my identity.

I can feel the ghost gaining as I become more weak and vile, I start counting numbers on my fingers to test if my mind is still my own. The ghost inches closer as its thoughts leak into my head. poisoning my tongue, leaving my voice paralyzed, unable to speak. As my mind starts to jumble altogether, I start to become more feeble and confused. 

As I lose feeling in every vain and artery, the ghost finally gets all I got left. I can see my whole life pass by racing so quickly like it never happened, I never happened. I try to absorb the best memories in my mind before I forget all together. 

I wake in a damp milky room, I look down at myself to see if I still exist, to find I am nothing but a thought in the air that will soon turn to dust and mix in with the wind. 

A presence sits still eyes resting closed, skin flawless and whiter then snow. Her hair is deep and continuous as it grazes the floor with its strains. My memory moves closer utterly intrigued by her beauty and perfection. Her eyes flash open, piercing me with brown eyes. My impression seizing and panicking for her eyes at one point were my own.

The presence parts her lips as if to say something, but she echos nothing. For my voice was the one thing that could not be reconstructed or deluded for I hid it away inside of me even though I could not use it. The presence speaks with my eyes that are now her own, showing me images that I deserve to be alone from the things I love, but haunted by beings I had created on my own. My thoughts would never again be just me, I will grow lonelier just as I am beginning to unravel the courage to live as nothing more then a stale impression without a substance.

The presence laughs at my own misery with my own eyes, perhaps she hears me, as she disappears to live my life better then I could. 

I can feel the silence eating away at my ears as it blocks my ability to hear. I can touch the hopelessness as the walls begin to close, I watch my memory begin to cease, become forgotten, as I let the walls take the rest of me, no longer afraid to lose grip, to give and withdraw from being even a thought at all. I can feel my memories collapsing until I am left without a thought or a feeling. I am no longer anything.

 

Out of no where I think of you, as if you were imprinted inside me never to be erased. I can remember your voice and its the only thing that gives me hope to some how push on.

 
Your eyes mend my tongue so I can speak.

Your voice builds and stitches me what resembles an anatomy, a person.

Without the thought of you I am not sure I would have woke up.

The sound of silence beautifully torturing every bit of reason, but your laugh makes the silence less loud.