Silence, the strangest kind of silence.


It should roar, but there is only silence. There is only frozen silence. There should be a roar, a grunt, a crashing sound, a wet sound and a heavy thump.

There is only silence.


The silence will swallow everything.

I will be swallowed too.


You will be swallowed too.



And the only thing that will remain within that fearsome silence will be the words unsaid, the words untrue, my words.


My words, lazy and heavy and careless, my words, obsolete.



My words of hate and irreverence, laying about like dead falling flowers, touching the innermost core





Of silence.