What is beauty,
    if not bereavement
                    of exhalation.

Our symbiosis is just
elongated moments
   of perpetual pain,

and unending noise.

And when were void less,
         there is elegance
where our conclusion is

             peaceful silence.

Meaningless noise finds my ears
swimming words
Images flying
Eyes crying
I hold tight to my wrists
Clutch my head
My ears too
Let my voice whisper
"Stop, please."
As the thoughts and memories
Travel into my mind
They double down
Scream them away in my head
People watch
As my eyes go wide, and my head spins
Cover my eyes
As the tears fall one by one
Such dutiful soldiers
People advert they're eyes, in respect
and I fall apart

You can raise your voice
As loudly as you please
I will only let my silence speak
My silence is louder than your noise

Your like, look at the bloke with no legs,
      I be like,  I can run faster than you mouth.

Yes I many be stumpy and do these shorts
      look big on me, but I'll never be shorter
than your short mindedness.

Running your gob like your mouth,
                                                   matches your shoesize.

Dam why would you even admit that..
  well I haven't got height but boy I have length

not like you...

Do you shop at baby gap for then tiny toes,

I'll always be higher than those belittling
                                                      ­                others.
for there short term gratitude.


My strength isn't vertical,
its that I can stand taller
              than all the misgivings that others
stigma me with.

Before they realise the truth,
that  is I can see a lot
             more truth than you can,
the taller they are the more noise

                               they make when they fall.

heart screams
noise overwhelms
why is it
failing me?

is there truly
no one?
no fish?
maybe mammals
are better

but the world
hates
why do they
hate
me

too close to home,
to what I know

why cant this
end?

It is so quiet.
I hear peanuts shells
snapping
teeth grinding
peanuts into butter
between his teeth.
The quiet page turning
Buried do deeply in
"The Scottish Prisoner"
It will be a while
Before he is hungry for dinner.
A bonus!
Turing thoughts inward
to the ever present ringing in my ears.
Long breaths in
and slower breaths out
Allowing the noise to disappear.