Well now I am aware
Of the newest anarchy towards your reasonings
An enterprise of not feeling anything
This practise of not making a sound.

Even the hollowest, little laugh, catapulted up
Through the roof of your mouth, and reflecting
Off the top of your tongue, can still be too much.
In earnest, even if it's an eighth of a sound, its apex
Is too much to drown out, I hear it everywhere that

It throws me towards. Holds me by the throat and it
Knows me now like it wants me to find out but then
Hides itself, like the chime of a bell, ringing off the hem
Of the dress you wore on October 30th of 2012, it is a
Sound that'd I'd never be able mute out, that comes
To me unexpectedly, and it takes the rest of me to keep cool.

Now the inches grow, and the moon men climb inside of
My mouth. I want to yell. Scream! But I can't even shout.
The words inside of my hands write, but the ink has dried out.
I wasn't sure but now I'm sure that the time has come and
That time on the clock is now. Call up the whales, undress for
The moon, I'm making Rice Krispies because the penguin girl

Is coming home soon.