Fiction

Silenced hearing, or the echoes of lies

Posted by on 4 May 13 in Fiction, Personal | 0 comments

We speak to silences, you, maybe, and I. In dark corners – we Scream, so our voices, desiccated turned to dust, are picked up like ash. Can you hear the cry of the Dodo, as the last one dies? Or see that fenced Tasmanian Wolf, as it breathes out its last breath? We closet our ears, you, maybe, and I. Under our covers – we Dream, so our thoughts, hollowed left to decay, are crushed up like sand. You can see that Nothing is left now, in this desert of lies. You may only see the wind gust, where once there was life.

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