I didn't ask for this
silence,
building in intensity
until it is the
only
sound
heard,
crescendoing with
vibrations
under my skin,
in my skull.
I'm afraid of now.
quiet
It embraces me
so tightly I can't
breathe,
reflects back nothing
but hollowed out dreams
laughing
at me.
The quiet echoes through my room.
Outside, the normal hum of traffic is
muffled.
A hush has wrapped the world in its arms.
Memories of noise
flash
through my mind
only to be
blanketed
by a heavy fog of
silence.
There is no sound
in my world.
Will I ever again?
hear
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 11:41 AM UTC
I didn't ask for this
silence,
building in intensity
until it is the
only
sound
heard,
crescendoing with
vibrations
under my skin,
in my skull.
I'm afraid of now.
quiet
It embraces me
so tightly I can't
breathe,
reflects back nothing
but hollowed out dreams
laughing
at me.
The quiet echoes through my room.
Outside, the normal hum of traffic is
muffled.
A hush has wrapped the world in its arms.
Memories of noise
flash
through my mind
only to be
blanketed
by a heavy fog of
silence.
There is no sound
in my world.
Will I ever again?
hear
This poem is about the dreaded 3 AM insomnia wake-up, when the world is dark and quiet. The silence feels alive and all-powerful.
