Lonely

The train lurches forward as though it is exhausted, worn out by loud conversation and dirt stained shoes shuffling along its floors, by the stenches of alcohol and cigarette smoke that keep its passengers company and the texter marks scribbled on its walls and the old chewing gum plastered on the backs of its seats

Lonely

A young university student gave up his place by the window for a middle aged lady who didn’t think to give just a single, “thank you,” or nod of acknowledgement and now he stands staring out at the last rays of sunlight reflected on the flashy tiles covering apartment buildings with tired eyes

Lonely

The little boy trying to demonstrate his gaming skills on a phone with a cracked screen pesters “Mummy, Mummy,” in an effort to gain his distracted mother’s attention; the teenage girl nods her head to a beat only she can hear

Lonely

The young woman with plump red lips and long fake lashes and tears inside her eyes just waiting to fall texts “I’m fine” to an internet boyfriend she’ll never meet

Lonely

While the hippie with Love tattooed on both arms swears loudly at his tangled earplug chords, the woman with cut lip and a colourful bruise on her cheekbone laughs awkwardly while her loud friend makes jokes that only she believes are worth laughing at

Lonely

And the man who is not so young anymore softly hums the tune to a song no one remembers; wondering why, amidst all the bustle, there dwells such a strange sense of quiet sadness

Lonely

And how it has come to be that so many unconnected little worlds and broken dreams are riding together on that one crowded, lonely train.

The moon as my witness, covering the darkness within me that threatens to be exposed, and the sun, my prosecutor, condemning me to a lifetime of illuminating my flaws and imperfections; I stand before you scarred from quiet falling stars.

When there is no sound to be made, everything else around you seems to triple itself. Your eyes take in more, your mind tends to think more, you can feel the thrumping beat of your heart in your chest.

Though it may be a sound, your breathing becomes a soft cadence, more felt than heard but it is there.

The quiet. A time whan nothing else seems to matter. A time just for self. The quiet could be considered boredom, or planning your next idea or goal.

I see quiet as the unspoken friend. The one entity that never says a word and yet, comprehends what is taking place. Like a sponge to water, the quiet soaks everything in.

When someone says to me, "You are awfully quiet. Don't you have anything to say?" My reply is simple. "No. If I did, I would."

On the opposite side, someone might say, "Just keep quiet about this." I see that as a way of keeping a trust between two people. After all, some secrets are very cool.

Besides, when it gets loud or noisy, I cannot concentrate on the task at hand. The quiet is my space and that above all else, I treasure.

Do I listen to music when I write, of course, but there are those times when quiet rules and life just feels good.

In the heart of the cave, they slowly made their way toward the iridescent waters. They stopped to gaze in awe at the beautiful colour shining forth from the silent waters.

The leader of the crew grinned. It would soon be time for the reaping.

The rest of the crew stood side by side, ready to just enjoy the splendor of the wonders that were in the heart of the cave.

One of the folks in the crew looked back to check if the little girl was not too far behind. She wasn’t there.

The guy pushed folks to the side, trying to reach the leader and also check to see if she was maybe trying to only hide in the small crowd. When he traced the leader he asked him if he had spotted the little girl.

He shook his head and said, ‘‘We left all the children with their mothers at the camp. Only ones here are the men.’’

The guy tried to speak, but words failed to escape his mouth. He panicked the moment he saw the leader’s reflection in the waters. The little girl winked at him.

He stumbled backward and fell on his derrière. Waving his hands back and forth, then almost crawling at full speed to escape from the heart of the cave.

The only thing he heard was the sound of the deafening screams of the remaining crew. He turned around to look back— nothing- was it all in his head?

As soon as he turned his head back, the last thing he saw was a burst of light. The little girl was now in front of him!

She was in another form~ charging toward him as a beast with shark like teeth and wolverine type claws. He felt as if his heart was burning at that point.

The moment he was about to let out a scream, the girl slashed her claws across his neck. His head slid off his body with his eyes still open wide. The terror he felt could still be seen on his face.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=qYS0EeaAUMw

14/04/2021 (c) #Quietly&Patiently

When someone says the word “quiet” my insides twist

Like a reflex, my body braces itself for derision

With knots that will secure all my vital organs

Like a sailing ship battening down the hatches for an impending storm

Because I’ve never been the quiet one.

I’ve always been told I’m too much

But the boxes they try to put me in have flimsy walls

And all of me - my pain, my laughter, my conviction

Escapes through their cracks and crevices

Sometimes knocking them down altogether

Leaving behind a smoking pile of rubble

I want to use the wood and dirt and rock to make something new

But all they see are broken things

It’s funny how when you’re told you’re too much

You immediately feel like you’re not enough

I used to shrink under the weight of those words

They’d tell me stay on the straight and narrow

But all the roads I’ve driven on are winding

And I never cared much for staying in my lane

So one day I decided that I choose Noise

The bass of my bones cannot be contained by headphones

It must be played through speakers on a concert stage

For the whole city to hear

Because I’m not something to be silenced, to be caged, to be tamed

Not only am I loud, But I’m shiny too

For years, you’ve stood in front of me

Spouting ridicule and disdain

Without realizing that my body is a mirror

And I reflect your own self-loathing

There is a reason why Dylan Thomas said

“Do not go gentle into that good night”

Because a life worth living is one where we burn brightly

Where we rage against the machine we may never escape

But from within which we can SCREAM

So loudly that we shake some pieces loose

Forever changing the way the gears turn

So the world will know we were here.

That moment,

between

life is good

and

head thrown back

mouth wide open

scream soul wrenching,

heart cracked and bleeding

through

eyes squeezed shut.

That moment,

the one

right before life

as you have known it,

loved it,

ends,

that one,

is a black hole

of deafening silence.

Dawn comes bells are rung

alarms sound chirping abound

wind cascades childen play

the bustle of another busy day.

streets sun-lit, laughter and glit

young lovers hopes and dreams

the day ends moon descends

The air is filled with

Silence

A star filled sky

day gone by souls ascend

young love found now hidden.

streets lamp-lit strength and grit

the harmony of a somber evening

winds abate, children asleep.

stillness abound a silent sound

Dawn comes bells are rung

the train tracks are empty.

the flowers woven between them are long gone.

the only sound is a whisper, not quite there.

watery sun, closed eyes.

this isn’t the end

but it seems to resemble that

notion.

"Quiet."

"No.

"Quiet."

"Yes."

"Thank you."

"Why?"

"Because, quiet."

"Ok."

"Thanks."

"But why should I be quiet?"

"Because."

"Stop saying because."

"Quiet."

"Stop saying quiet."

The whole church looked at him.