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Sound Screens

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I make voices from
the white noise,
let them entertain me.


They are small and
cunning and say great
large things into my
ears. Slumped in the
grasp of industrial
chairs, I am hugged by
itching polyester.


I make these sounds
speak, so I don't have to.
They have taken my words,
I give them away
and sit with chapped lips
in the air conditioning.


Sound Screens I have parted,
twisted into human form.




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TickTockBANG said...
Sept. 5, 2012 at 5:43 pm:
Honestly, I have no idea what a white noise machine is, but I like the concept of taking noise and making it voices, so I really like this poem :) It's short and sweet, not overbearingly detailed.
 
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