melted

a soft voice

i was listening to a song that reminded me of you. the distortion of feedback and booming audio, emphasizing each syllable, beyond control. at concerts, you are at the mercy of an engineer whose name you don't know. i guess i remember my own words, twisted and pulled out of my grasp. a voice, light and airy, forced to rival pots and pans and drums and thunder. we, humans, putting the meekest at odds with nature because we believe being loud means being heard. i know i should be grateful for this opportunity, to take in the astoundingly amplified ambiance. amplified astounding ambiance? you take to words like i do to cleaning, pushing away the clutter and leaving only the strongest bonds behind. we don't do our chores as much as we should. the world would be better if i picked up my papers and you read aloud your manuscripts. but what does it matter? nobody comes home to see my mess and nobody listens to your distress. we are dust bunnies in a world of hungry foxes, forever prowling with that incessant vacuum cleaner growl.

i want to stop accessorizing my words, restrain myself from the easy task of becoming a thesaurus so that nobody knows my true intent, but isn't it so funny to look at yourself? you stand on stage in my hat and my lanyard and sing out. i don't understand your duality, this shift from boy to star. you convert oxygen instead of hydrogen to helium and i feel my voice getting lighter, laughing, laughing, laughing. every song reminds me of you now. i listen for your voice within the bass line, unable to find it. i keep listening anyway.

i want to stop talking just to talk. can you understand me like this? you're smart beyond layman's terms but i am completely clueless and dense when it comes to situations like this. do you feel the way i do? when i ramble on do you let me talk because you like hearing my voice or because you feel too awkward to tell me to stop? when i walk by your side do you let me stay because it feels like an obligation? do you want to run away? do you want to talk to me or am i better off in my own head? do i think too much? you said you don't think as much as i think you do. you said you're just blank space up there. can i call your bluff without seeming too invested? i want to understand the mystery that surrounds you. the midterm says it all: my inability to comprehend things like this draws an audience. the question that preoccupies my mind now is whether or not the audience has you in it. you, the listener. you, the player. do you hear yourself when you talk or only when you sing? do you hear how smart you sound, how stunning you sound? how stunned am i? can you put words to my speechlessness? i want to hear your voice the way you want it to be heard, but i think too hard and i talk too much. i want to be like you. i think i might like you.