white noise

white noise - Charlotte Griffiths

the gland in my own arm swells
until it is almost the size of a golf ball, the 
rain falls and autumn kicks slowly 
into cognition, only 
just, 
and all the while 
i watch the calls come through 
unanswered. 
sometimes the editors leave messages, 
sometimes it's just one of the boys checking 
up but most 
of the time it's just 
white noise 
called to complain about the 
missing buzz or 
pointless space now 
re-purposed, 
called 
out
until the answering machine
picks up and holds the 
distant drone of 
life never started nor 
ended 
on the line 
in the room, echoed, 
in my mind; 
insanity settles 
so well 
under dim stars
and dark 
shadow, 
fallen - 
how i will always 
fall for 
honesty, 
unabridged 
(won't
you join me 
in this?)
-Charlotte Griffiths