the insurmountable quiet
the internal pressure has dropped again, and, like the collapsable straw, i am angled over, eyes incapable of lifting from the lower horizon, the invisible lips pressed against me - innards lost to her wanting belly. the coterie of sounds frequently visit, their stay welcomed but disatisfying; the night turns and they stray forward to better company, silence left to witness the inevitable breakdown. blinking slowly, ears twitching at the creaks in floorboards and ambient noises; at the grainy, deafening howl of quietude and of saturninity, i can only sit and hope the night passes with haste.