Slowly, pull my fingers from my ears
And wipe the blood that trickles down my cheeks
I can see your lips move
But you don't seem to say anything at all
It's no different from before
Because this is the Golden Age of Communication
Where everyone talks at once
Where the air is full of noises
A screeching crescendo falling on deaf ears
And wipe the blood that trickles down my cheeks
I can see your lips move
But you don't seem to say anything at all
It's no different from before
Because this is the Golden Age of Communication
Where everyone talks at once
Where the air is full of noises
A screeching crescendo falling on deaf ears
posted by Information Sniper at 9:29 PM
4 Comments:
More good imagery. A bit stomach churning, but no doubt that is intentional.
Too much talk can damage.
Indeed.
Thanks! I half wrote this about this guy I'm staying with in Australia, who keeps doing this mocking Canadian accent- except it sounds like a frigging TEXAN accent. I wanted to write something visceral, but I didn't want to write something about hurting someone else; does that make sense?
Anyways, this is kind of my way of saying "I want to kill the person next to me", but since I don't have the guts to do it I write things like this so I can sneer at them from behind the safety of my computer screen.
I like how your poems balance the person against the communial. This could eiether be a statement of a personal event, or a statement of society. Or both.
I enjoy!
Yeah, i like the safety of the screen. It's anonymous thickness is impenetrable.
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