That growing silence you hear as you leave the hustle and bustle,
Of a party or other social gathering.
Attacked by noise that leaves quiet to be desired,
To parley with nothing but empty sound,
That rush I feel as the world around goes mute.
I would bottle that feeling up and get high of it every night if I could,
As if it was something like the purest of heroins.
Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 12:14 PM UTC
That growing silence you hear as you leave the hustle and bustle,
Of a party or other social gathering.
Attacked by noise that leaves quiet to be desired,
To parley with nothing but empty sound,
That rush I feel as the world around goes mute.
I would bottle that feeling up and get high of it every night if I could,
As if it was something like the purest of heroins.
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