One person's journey surviving mental illness and recovering from substance abuse.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
White Noise in a Vacuum
For so long,
Her screams were whisphers.
His whisphers were screams.
They sent down the Lord God Almighty,
But it didn’t mean a thing.
Like an iPod imitating a classic LP,
She sampled the grooves he graveled.
He tried to explain the joy of the nooks and crannies:
Tear into an English muffin - don’t slice.
He said there’s so much more in so much less
She was proud to stammer, “Whoa, dude, bird. Cool.”
“Why do you come here?” she finally asked him.
“There’s so much you don’t know,” he replied.
“Then, tell me,” she taunted.
“Believe me,” he thought, “I’ve tried“.
And all the damage, a rock star, a porn star, nothing, yet-
Her mom remembers he walked around to the front door, to be polite.
Share to Twitter
Share to Facebook
Share to Pinterest
Post a Comment
Post Comments (Atom)