The airwaves are empty.

I don’t want to rise again but I know I have to.

This ground is cold and damp and it is seeping

into me, I am becoming numb, my soul is dying.

The sky is a dark shade of emptiness, the air I

breath gives continuation where once it gave life.

The stars have died and my eyes have forgotten

what beauty looks like. I flip through songs

searching for the lyrics that beat to the same

tune as I do, there are none, so I search again

the airwaves are empty. The silence echoes my

emptiness twanging against the iron bars.

A smashed light bulb above my life, fragmants of glass

litter the ground and like an expert I tip toe through.

My wounds have long bled out and become the ink

in my pen, even that now runs dry, congealed and

scabby. One song is replaced with another as I

search for my beat, searching blindly for the

lyrics that whisper to my soul. I can only hear

the sound of breaking atoms their energy bursting,

streaming the skies with invisible energy. Iwant to

rise again and walk in the shadows where the silence

is my friend and the darkness my lover.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

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2 thoughts on “The airwaves are empty.

    1. Thank you Mr Zigzag, I hope my ink never dries completely that I think would make for a very dull life :). I think the problem is simply my mind wants me to write a couple of specific pieces and isn’t going to let a single other thing past until I write them…..looks like i’m gonna have to buckle up and get them written if I want my thoughts back :)….and music too, I forget how quiet the world is when there is no music lol

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