I can taste the sound of silence
painting murals on these walls

I can wade in the stillness
blanketing everything in flashlight beams

But every time I start to dip my hands into the paint
that outlines you into not a ghost
it sings cacophony into my fingertips.

My nightmares sneak their way
into every corner of my eyelashes
tied together with your rough tattered list
of everything I should be doing

I walk with dreams unguarded
because I can still drink smoke
from the aftermath of your time bomb.

I block my eyes
cover my ears
tear my brains out till I find your touch

But I still taste the sound of silence
painting murals on these walls

because here I can never win
and my vision’s out of time
tunneling across the legends of lost firecrackers
that used to smell like freedom.

Steep my vengeance in a bitter bliss,
mold my shudders into a sweet scream

Brush the maybes off the staircase
so I can fly in brisk bright blue again,
landing safely on the sound of silence
so it clashes like the crack of thunder
and I can finally find a sixth sense
that might tell me something right.