Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Io Jul 2
The silence behind every sound.
Felt, not heard.

It weighs on me,
stronger than gravity.

A constant background silence,
radiating;
permeating
from somewhere behind the
noise.

Perhaps,
not silence.
Hollow noise,
dead sounds,
phantom whispers.

Haunting me,
if you’re real
Hauntingly,
what came before?
In a semi-secluded corner of his garden lay a small wendy house
change the channel please
the static is choking me
the digital fuzz
the buzz of the drugs
is all too much to handle
so please oh please
change the channel.
01000110 01110010 01100101 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100101
Mike Mar 19
where do we go when the lights cut
and the music stops?
i don't bother with the insects in the walls
i don't read the news or watch cable television
who's on the other side? i ask
Inside my static dreams
Are acid screams

A sphere of broken glass
Spins
On alone a string,

If you pull my cords right,
You'll make me sing
AngLe Mar 9
Lerscent grimmark, dark & light - glas

Cost em-mark en bisk et ast
heavy holden march of hOVE- entasked watching homers m ark
doe agree ṧick the pervious measure
that measure of good & evil.... (dost thou see)
///
Tear away, flocking dress in/motion _ heal/SCARS
trainṧit life for light or light for life
Certain that curtail fervent curtain time
- shallow eleven drench that sut surper of STILL
- heal
uselace Mar 7
I am a static being,
Words
And thoughts
Drifting through my head,
Buzzing
Without any meaning
My limbs itch for motion
But nothing feels right
So instead I sit,
Listening to the buzz,
Noiseless sound
And wishing
That just once-
I could tune in to real life.
Sometimes there's nothing I want to do and I just feel static, like I'm in between something. Life or death, maybe. Probably something a lot less profound. I don't know.
julianna Feb 22
Depression is like a static
You don’t know where is starts
You don’t know where is begins
It’s just the noise
White noise
Nothing else but empty noise
Cup Noodles Feb 12
the days have been silent
the nights grown longer
the mornings are murk
the afternoon sears
as days are as dragging as nights

out the window the colors are dull
but in this room no color appears
and in these thoughts are cages
the rooms sound way better than
where am i now

my own consciousness hinders me
my own consciousness hinders me
Next page