Silent Recourse

Short, sweet, symptomatic

Sometimes the world reveals too much, too fast.

 

That anxiety feel when waiting in line, surrounded and astounded by the voices that touch too close.  When every word IS for you.  When "you" becomes the very essence of identity, the identities handed down and dramatically reflected. 

 

There are moments when the very segments of society sing too loudly...too proudly.

"Honey, something is wrong with the printer." rang down the hall. It was Tara, wanting.

 

I waited for a second Sun once, the Time held the minutes tightly. There was no call.

 

Did she figure it out? Who ever really knows, in silence.