I have listened to the chatter of a hundred million mouths, the clatter of too many skeletons and not enough air.
Some of the things that are spoken cling to you, stain your knees and fester in the cracks of your brain, pouring from your lips and onto your hands. The stains of such profound thoughts living in your every action. Other sentences wash over you like rain, summer showers and pomegranate body wash. The quick snips of insignificant chitchat falling like fresh snow over an empty river, the bottom dried up by too much dribble. Sometimes I wonder if people ever drown themselves in silence. I wonder if they can hear the voice of an endless ocean singing to them beneath the darkness. Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be the whisper of a blade of grass, the flick of a bird’s wing, the sound of sunlight touching your skin.
I bet it sounds serene.