I Am Breathing. In Dreams, We Never

The World Is Quieter Now. It Is Never Quiet, But It Can Get Quieter. What Strange Creatures We Are, To Find Silence Peaceful, When Permanent Silence Is The Thing We Most Dread. Nighttime Is Not That. Nighttime Still Rustles, Still Creaks And Whispers And Trembles In Its Throat. It Is Not Darkness We Fear, But Our Own Helplessness Within It. How Merciful To Have Been Granted The Other Senses.

I Try To Convince Myself That It's The Alcohol Talking. But Alcohol Can't Talk. It Just Sits There. It Can't Even Get Itself Out Of The Bottle.

Even Though I'm Seventeen, I Guess I Still Thought This Would Always Be True - That There Would Always Be That Lost-and-found, And Not The Lost-and-still-lost That I Am Now Trapped Inside.

Seven Wonders Of The World And I Have To Ask For An Eighth Fill A Bottle With Some Prayers And Spend Them On Hope Create An Easy Route Just So I Can Complicate Send My Heart Down That Slippery Slope

A Sound Waiting To Be A Word.