a desperate cry
for sound
as ears ring;
as the humming of life
abandons everything;
alas,
there is no sound
in the ancient
black and whiteness;
dwelling on the frontpage,
words rearrange themselves,
within each drop of ink,
within each blade of grass,
within each leaf that falls,
within each blood vessel,
within everything
is 
a hollow hum,
listen
close your eyes;
let your heartbeat stop
as the empty rays of a greying sun
fill


i see a ladder
as i close my eyes 
to look up
and 
see
workers, politicians
all laughing
and i stand sitting
stable, teetering and swelling
as nothing comes out to play
and i say to her
why does every day have to last so long?
why is everything so distant?
as i search for letters to fill the blank slate of my cavernous headhole
the tub is drained and i cant hope but to escape something
some form of cage, some boundary
 i cant cross any road without fearing for my feet
and the nonsense of a manta rays taste buds dances inside me
as i laugh
and laugh at nothing in particular just my head hanging a noose pictured by every single passerby
who laughs at me quietly as my body boils nothing matters i say but another lie fizzles in the smell of ozone

a story of complete darkness starts in a streeet. some man walks down, his head pointing at an angle. towards the cement.
the sun beams down, 
but it doesnt light anything for him. its just an inconvenience. he doesnt want to see people, architecture or animals.
there are no animals,
but if there were some, he would not be interested in seeing them.
when you are on the verge of a complete breakdown of self, animals have little relevance.
he goes to a bench, head still down, and sits. he has
no reason to live. his life is the last page of a shit novel, a white blank page ready
to be filled with anything; but the only thing he sees is blood.
he sees it dripping from walls, spewing forth from toilets, covering paintings
and in the breath of children. he feels it boiling in his arms and his penis
seems to drip red as it rips through his fists; desperate calls cries carry forth through his lonely evenings;
how can he justify his existence when he doesnt believe in anything?
why?
he finds the same mask hiding under his bed every morning, and he
sobs in the shower water strangling him leaving him dry and
flaking. as he laughs in the face of morning dead
the neighbors found the body and
the orange dress all tangled and covered in chunks of flesh.