Silence is a scary sound specially when it blares from within.
The empty walls echo the heart beat to a thump that hammers the skull from inside. The head is reduced to a pulp and the limbs rebel against your being refuting any claim for sanity. The emptiness seeps in through the eyes and the vacuum weighs down on the soul crushing it to dust that clings to the bones. The spiders of fate weave webs of day to day monotony that binds this dust to whatever remnants of life you feel pulsating in the veins.
The heart is a liability and the colloidal solution of blood, anger and tears just about hangs on the surface of a slashed wrist resenting all your attempts to set yourself free. The unwillingness of breath to leave your lungs force you to gasp and puff in another whiff of smoke.
The viscous life refuses to drip from the branches of a bare tree. You live on – to see another day, break another tear, crush another dream and take another bite.