Numbers tick down.
An idle buzzing.
A man speaking
   but
       no
           words
               come
                     out.

Muffled sounds from the other side of the room.
Running in circles
around what we really mean.

Perhaps if the buzzing would just...
                   STOP...

Outside people shuffle about like ants.
Preoccupied with the task at hand,
the ants carry an enormous weight
              blindly
back to their queen.

"I'd like to-"
buzzzzzzzzzz
"Start with-"
buzzzzzzzzzz

ENOUGH.


Silence
Everything feels different in the silence;
          numbers move more slowly;
          circles become lines;
Everything changes.

As the pain just adds up,
I'll be your sponge and soak it in
Feeling it all within
Beneath me and below me
Tired of the Sin
That implements fear into our hearts
Never again will i witness such discouraging misery without having a hand into preventing it.
We're all guilty of pandiculation.
I'm no different, but at least i can attempt to stop some of the ravaging pulses that define our physical state.
We invented habit, but now we're trying to have a ribbon cut to end the ones we dislike the most.