though we try to escape
this unkempt world
with its busy streets,
yelling men on street corners,
random outbursts from the impoverished,
advertisements peddling
face creams and running shoes
and lotteries and fried foods,
the noise of it all,
what silence do we hope to escape to?

a beach with sunset?
i can hear the wind
against the trees, the splashing
of these waves before me,
the birds, they're calling their
night songs, i hear laughing in
the distance,

what of empty church?
i hear the echoing of my footsteps,
the creaking of aged wooden benches,
and if i concentrate,
i hear the gentle flicker
of that row of candles, the
***** rings of past hymns,

what of padded isolation cells?
panic rooms, artificial solitude?
cling to them like supermen
only for emergent use,
close your eyes,
let the black envelop you,
meditate, if you know how,
relax, beyond earthly possessions...

when that mind begins to wander,
as it does, it's mandatory,
hear that voice inside your head,
telling you to stay focused?

telling yourself to stay focused
only starts the spin of things:

and then you hear the beat
of drums, african tribal rhythms,
or phil collins at the start of
"in the air tonight"
or the strings, is that pachabel?
i hear the start of "the sound of silence"
as if my mind is mocking me,
i hear the voice of my mother,
there's my father,
they're beside me and it's christmas,
i hear nat king cole,
i hear the sound
of knife through turkey,
i hear laughter,
it's yours,
i hear the sound of my
fingers as they run along your skin
and get tangled in your hair,
i hear a heartbeat,
direct through chest, then through
bell of stethoscope, i hear
the rocko's modern life theme song,
i hear thunder, i hear rain,
i hear the splashing of my shoes,
i hear the gravel, i hear cars,
i hear the city, the random beeping
indicating when to cross,
the sound of garbage being thrown out,
of doors opening, slamming,
metal against metal,
i hear applause,
after successful landing,
i hear recycled air above me,
i hear it all,

everything is right here,
there's no such thing as silence,
and that shouldn't be a problem,
in fact, i think it's beautiful.

I'm scared of my imagination.

I hear, see and feel things I shouldn't.
It scares me.

You hear barking, I hear howling.
You hear chair scraping the ground, I hear screaming.
You hear snoring, I hear wailing.
You hear in between radio stations, I hear cackling.
You hear sliding, I hear snakes.
You hear buzzing, I hear a bomb ticking.
You hear church bells, I hear the call for death.
You hear chopping food, I hear execution.
You hear the waves, I hear the drowning of the unknown.

I can't stay in the dark,
It's what I imagine I fear for.
My heart runs for it's life,
But it's stuck in the same cage.
And it's walls are scraped,
With tally of the times it will never get out.

You hear a tap, I hear drowning.
And I am flowing with it. In it.

Shake my head away from the dreams?
It's not as easy as you think.
When they taunt you,
While you sleep,
You dream,
You eat,
Scream.
I do.

It's just a nightmare...
- No it's not.
It's real;
It's my imagination.

Telling me things it shouldn't,
Making me feel things I shouldn't.

The imagery is too much, I cannot see;
Blind.

The wails, howls and screams are getting louder;
Deaf.

I’ve run out of voice,
To speak, to express, to call for help;
Dumb.

They say your imagination cannot hurt you,
Yet I’m screaming, running away from it.
But I can't – it's stuck with me, 'till I die.
Die from the fear of myself?
I will.