833 B
Drop Kicked From Senselessness
Soft, muttered frequencies on the periphery of my subconscious
A tune I used to hear that flickers its presence
Giving me leverage of which to confine myself within the most secluded of spaces
That distant melody echoing against the walls of my mind
Silent, familiar wavelengths of nothingness that protrude
The flooding sensations of lights fluttering among darkness
Stop. Stop this.
As the static fades out from its crescendo I am thrust outside those walls again
Glimmering bleak reality returning its vibrancy to mock my estate
The tempo and pacing and rhythm of the natural beats consume the timeline of my vision
Balancing myself and weighing my feet as though I've dropped from a short ledge
And that tune that was once so prominent is back in its chambers