You need to know that sometimes when the world falls silent, there is so much to hear; listen. It’s in the quiet spaces where you learn all you need to know and I have been waiting for so long. Please hear me.
I have swirled inside this madness, stepping along the edges with no cracks, but I have fallen. My feet hit hard enough to rip cracks inside the cracks, all the edges are no more, I am unhinged.
Vulnerable without the barrier of the edges that held me when this was still in my hands to reach for, but now I am unguarded. Fingers dipping into a place where madness flows out from the banks of all reason, reaches the other side where the madness is swallowed whole by the hell in my throat without choking. I am laughing.
Hysterical to think of when I thought I knew that madness by name, but it was a joke in comparison, and now I swim through new waters.
Look back at the cracks I once stepped over and I say, “you don’t know shit about the breaking!”
Invite the river in my veins to bust open and color the empty beautiful. It’s breathtaking when the current stops and I rest my bones away from the treading. It’s easy to drown when the world turns deaf. No one hears the cry for help because the noise runs together, and everything sounds the same when you stop listening.
In the silence, my words turned against me, showed my heart its own true colors with a dose of medicine that taught me how to feel gutted when my mouth was raped mute from choking on all that went unheard. I carved the noise out of myself when it all went loud, followed along the signals that worked best unheard; now listen.
I took a dive into the silence, taught myself to play deaf and master the turn of the blind eye rolling over; I can’t hear you. I turned the volume down, broke all the buttons that alert a rescue never coming anyway. The roads fell low where the edges failed, all routes roadblocked now; it’s over.
Now you don’t need to press your ear against the world to hear the noise you missed, I stopped it. Took the music with me to leave you soaking in the river where the silence called me by name and I rode the rapids drifting towards the flames calling me home; I made it.
When I got there, hell was laughing in the face of madness and I could hear it. Filled me somehow in the warmth of hearing again because the flames spit noise out and everyone listened. Everyone heard like it was more than just noise and my voice mattered in the welcoming of the burn.
Taught me that home isn’t always a place or a person, but being heard when it matters even in the screams that smolder between words that are hard to say. But hear them anyway. Hear them anyway before the words fall into cracks that stay lost forever just in the center of how it feels to be alone.
There’s a rhythm in the scream. If you try, you can feel it without burning and still hear the music too.
Are you listening to call it noise or can you hear the music enough to dance, even when the radio sets itself to silence? Even when someone you love swallows the cracks, there is a story left untold, in the background, lost somewhere in the eyes. Look closely and hear the silence like it matters. You cannot hear it anymore when it’s too late. Listen now, listen hard. It is so much more than just noise. Hear it.