Thread: Blue Static Loops

Through a crack in the wall
they hear it,
the numb, the petty, the important.
They whisper and assess
and suddenly I’m frightened
by the scope of everything.

I never heard what she said,
but it was pretty;
I never understood what it meant.
She waves hello,
it’s a quarter to three,
I re-watch the late news
for new information.
She doesn’t get
that I may’ve missed something.

The walls hear it all,
more succinct, more privy than
parent, friend or wayward lover;
tearing at the psyche
and removing its enamel,
they descend the public self,
the stone structures we erect
because we’re
ashamed to be naked.

Walls
upon walls
upon walls;
caged,
a confounded baby animal;
“When the time comes,”
I tell her,
“they’ll testify,
condemn us to the gallows.”
She says they’re inanimate,
that all this bluster is futile,
and I’m certain they hear this --
the walls that is,
closing in, closing in,
redefining our living space,
the space in which they allow us to live!
All the horrid secrets
are bubbling, spewing,
becoming lucid in form.
Soon they will manifest.

She stands and says she’s leaving --
but of course they have preempted this.
All this is orchestration,
and no one,
not even the key players,
knows what’s happening.

I tell her I love her,
she says I’m insane,
and the concrete walls,
silent so far,
choose this phrase
to reverberate.
Insane..sane..sane..sane..
..and the message is so personal
that for a moment I’m unsure
as to where to direct my fear.
My “paranoia,”
she corrects,
Medusa with her hourglass form,
but she would say that,
it’s a part of her programming.

She leaves
and the ensuing silence envelops me.
The tape,
the news, old news,
worn from overuse,
they’re
rewriting it,
rewriting everything;
blue static loops
then the loops echo,
a record crackles
and the static loops,
echos sound,
a silhouette quivers
then a record crackles
as the static loops-

I got quite a feeling of madness from this and extreme paranoia. So if that was your intent you succeeded immensely here. I very much enjoyed this, Tom. One tiny nit, and it may be a personal thing only. I think it may read better if you didn't use the abbreviations for 'may have' and 'they are', but those are very small nits.

This was quite enjoyable to read. I had the same sensation that Gumby did.

reading this i experienced dueling flash-backs of george orwell and william burroughs. this has kind of a sci-fi feel to it. well crafted, i look forward to reading more.

wood