Sometimes its not good to shelve silence for words, wrapped silence is a gift that breaks a promise you made to yourself. But often out of a boredom or a desperation you want to hear your own word as an echo, to part the air of noise that hangs lazily like the pollution in hazy cities. Before you begin to speak, you discern each noise on its merit and place it out of a memory; memory has a small place for what happens everyday. It merely archives those unknown to you, for what you knew you go searching in the shelves and you find it lost. You want to scream and recover the day, but it distances itself like a hurt lover. But slowly with a temptation of a child you partner the voices that surround you, the tap on the keyboard, the eerie noise of the lamp and the slow whirring of the fan, you see the spider crawling but register no sound. Here is the time you want to put on a tune that you wanted to hum, but no tune comes to mind, none that will save you from speaking. Fallen, defeated, and tired you put a hand on your lips, drink a sip from the cup, curl up your nose to see if it can come to the rescue, take the finger away from the typing board and caress the lips to silence them. Here comes the scream....then the silence pervades.
