Timothy Sexton’s
epileptic bell-whether
used for Angelus

Imagine being deaf.

Sitting on a train in
the underground of
London’s Metro is a
mum word metaphor.

It is said of muscles
that the ones which
remain closed should
be tossed in the bin.

Talk is only cheap if
the naysayers decide
ones echo had lost
its import, on export.

Snoop Dog
said that
white noise
was ambient

Tides ebb and flow
within all of us, even
without lunar activity.

The shores of our minds
host a nights deposit of
cognitive sediment, daily.

Those who beach comb
are consciously aware
of the sea shells secrets.

~~~~~~~~
Furrows on
the forehead
are torments
of the mind.

Pain has no echo but
it is tinnitus, to some.

One doesn’t have to
witness the splash
to read the ripples.

Feeling vibrations on
webs if compassion is
empathy, emphasised.

Invisible stitching is the
tailors art, but scars of
emotion cannot be hidden.