sometimes I want to scream,
to open my throat and let raw, audial emotion pour out of my mouth

in unlikely and inappropriate places:

I want to be louder than the grate of iron against iron on the metro,
than the sharp whine of subway against tracks
than the hum of electricity
and the noise that makes up this city
and the noise that makes up the world.
I want to be louder than the noises that reverberate from other people's lives,
and louder than bureaucracy,
and louder than the din of policies and senseless complaints.

but then I think about the summer lockdown,
the humidity of western Tennessee,
the chorus of cicadas in the forests,
devoid of human noise and interaction.

I think about the luna moth I found on my doorstep one morning,
Sheltered from sun, cicada, and wasp.
They stand for luck, you know, and all good fortune.

They don't have mouths.

I walk alone down an empty hall.
I hear the voices behind me.
Every step I take they become louder and louder;
I quicken my pace.
My footsteps echo around me
As my feet hit the floor.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
With every step, they grow louder.
With every step, the voices scream.
They scream until I can no longer hear the footsteps.
They scream telling me to stop.
I reach the door...
My hand rests on the rusted golden ****.
My breath catches in my throat,
I can feel as my hands become clammy, and
Sweats comes down my forehead in beads.
My eyes dart from side to side-
The voices still screaming.
"You can't leave"
"You won't go"
Voicing my doubts and insecurities.
They scream inside my head!
They yearn to tear me down;
To create this void of darkness that I am constantly trapped in.
Oh, that void,
A place of emptiness;
Full of darkness.
A place where the voices thrive-
Picking up on every single thing
And using it all against me.
A place that I refuse to go back to.
So, as my eyes focus on the rusted ****
My hand reaches out.
I stretch my fingers and clasp them around it.
Feeling the coldness of the metal shock my body.
I rotate my hand 90 degrees,
The **** creaks and groans as the door is opened.
Automatically I swing the door open
I hear the voices start to quiet.
I take one step,
Then two,
Then three.
I breathe in the fresh air;
My lungs fill up.
A cloud of smoke appears as I release the air trapped inside.
I start to walk,
Leaving my anxiety-ridden mind behind.

I want to scream,
Like no one's listening
But I need your hand to hold,
So why is it I choke?
When you ask me what is wrong
The words seem to escape me
And instead I sit with tears in my eyes.

I trust you with every fibre of my being
So why is it,
I'm so **** scared you'll leave my side?
When you ask me what is wrong
I don't want you to only see the broken
So I hide it all inside
But you stay and help it feel okay.

i. 403 Forbidden

lostin _thisdigital_scream.mp3
it’s over
shutdown.
restart.
pick up the pieces.
you know who this is
you know where this is
fresh eyes to see the world
strings of code
binary - 1 or 0
y/n
n.
back into the
cave we go

ii. 401 Unauthorised

you split yourself open.
rewiring
it is time to make a change
your code writ in red and
love and trauma
plug you in
(plug into me)
corrupted files
delete, delete
a cut job (ctrl x)
you do not have access.

iii. 404 Not Found

who are you
where are you
what colour is the sky
what colour is the sea
why can you feel the pull of the moon
does the earth call to you
why
why does she have rainbow eyes

ah.
there you are
(were)
empty automata
take to change.
flee from me.
find safety.
firewall.
sleep,
electric sheep dreams.

defragmentation
debugging
recalibration
everything not saved will be lost

iv. 410 Gone

you wake.
(FALSE)
the world is new
to you again
or you are
new to it.
i won’t find you in this place
because you’re gone
(again)
new version
ctrlaltdel.
empty.
a reconfiguration
ship of theseus
whole again
without them

coda. Metadata

you run out into the dark
the burdened and choked night sky
you see nothing
you see everything
this world is yours to reshape
and you to be reshaped with it
cause and effect
no more binary. no more
i am waiting for you.

Sometimes love and hate are hard to differentiate.
They both give me sensory overload,
Even when there is nothing to
touch
When there is nothing to
Hear.
Silence can turn into screaming when I think about you.
I am bound to go deaf.

I want to scream, at you,
I want to see you move,
Just a flinch.
Why won't you move?
Why won't you run?
Run, away from me.
Stop looking at me.
With that look in your eye,
My eye.
I.
I want to run away.
Run away, with me,
Stop holding me here.
I need to scream,
Scream.
I need to stop screaming at me.

The questions don’t stop.
The incessant babbling of a panicked boss
The bone churning boredom of paint drying with the sympathetic tears that accompany a slowly dying animal.
I need a drink, rather several, rather all!
Maybe, for bonus points, we can throw in a crippling drug addiction that could, maybe, allow for a grasp on the slick walls of the pit. But we both know it won’t.

I need to escape, to get away from this horrid existence. But I don’t dare. Yellow bellied sluggard.
Thank god for cowardice, or I’d be the main course at the feast of the maggot king.