Approaching

I.

My voices titters out seven times

Asking you the same silly question

Your eyes glaze over, sight just past my mouth

Not hearing a single word

II.

I cannot scream.

There is something sad

in not being able to pierce the silence,

to puncture the deafenance.

III.

The ending of a song.

I destroy my bedroom, wrenching books,

Punching my pillows and kicking the bed

The pauses in between are too loud

IV.

There is a moment just after the stillness

When a high whine rings in my ear,

Like a stereo shortening out,

It reminds me that we are all faced with

Sudden bouts of eerie

V.

Six rabid beeps drumming in my ear,

and yes, I mean rabid, with the

drums pounding against my skull,

I lurch up from the bed, awake

Beep-be-beep, beep-be-beep, bee--

VI.

I do not handle the silence well

I am a storm, I know

silence is never as it seems,

it eases right before I hit

VII.

They say that silence is comforting

Whoever said that clearly does not know

Of the fear