The talking heads used to sing a lullaby now everyone dreads when they even sigh. Creating static that no hands could hope to block out hiding in the attic but the sealing’s peeled and so has the grout.
I can’t bear to hear another word of resentment that is undeserved, even the slightest breath of air is a kin to irritation I can’t compare.
The talking heads used to compose magic but now their frowns illuminate something tragic. A life that pushes me out of place, my skin, my heart and soul; a waste.
If you’re questioning what these words mean while you’re reading them on an LED screen you’ve yet to experience silence’s bliss, when you do you’ll see it’s something to miss. Noise cancellation fails the trial, cars honk and phones dial, I remember the sound of just the breeze of damp grass and brushing knees.
The talking heads trapped in my ear never seem to want to stop. Telling me all I don’t want to hear, I beg and plead but each topic they won’t drop
I can’t bear to hear another word of resentment that is undeserved, even the slightest hint of a sigh is too much of an attempt to pry.