When the stones sink into my depths,
stirring murky sediment in my mind.
But its not only one that I throw within,
ripples of numbness collect in places
that were hollow, but now filled with
vacant white noise..

Grey shades now colourful eclipses,
for when I see the sunset of my actions
I know that I must sink stones once again.
But what if I were to throw more than
the recommended amount?
causing more than just voice to fade out.

I read the sign hanging on the side
of my emotions, and realize that these
aren't what I need. Throwing them around
isn't filling a gap its stitching it together
with faded voices. That instead of whispers
they produce an itch I cant scratch.