Oh, to live a life of broken
bones and aching limbs.
Limber movements in
cramped apartments.
Screaming thoughts amidst
the defeaning silence of
the faint electrical buzz.
oh, to live in a silence of
the tranquil kind. To be
completely at ease in the
safe haven of silence, like
a blanket concealing the quiet
to the oasis of the room.
oh, how silence would be
favored in the loudness
of outside interruptions.
*
But to admire the sanity
of silence is to ultimately
sacrifice ones own sanity.
For quiet is dark, and deadly,
and to be silent is to scream
ones own thoughts privately
in a prison of intercellular signals.
Sometimes, to be still and quiet is
longed for, but a life of quiet is a life
of missed opportunities.
Sometimes, to speak your mind is
better than allowing the cancer of
screams to echo inside the internal
quarters of the mind.