For once I have seen the moment in front of me.
I have given myself an unfaltering aim;
sober-eyed and away from Amnesia Haze.
The words came before the ability to speak,
and so I have been living as an empty barrel,
sleep-starved in the basement
and devoid of sunlight.

There is a wave of panic in the streets,
from ebola virus, to fulfilled prophecy.
Since my life slowed to a catatonic state,
the still waters came in a pill-drawn routine
of restless walks, and falling asleep in the day.
Once I had mapped out the cracks in the ceiling,
I stood up to look outside the window.

A voice appeared, to appease the silent word.
It is a fallacy to think
that a quiet voice should not be heard.