melting silence

Inferno, flames flickering further and further upwards,

A calamity of chaos rising up, singed nostril hairs preventing people from sensing the inferno.

Primal instincts still blaring: warning, warning, something has gone terribly wrong here!

To every soul still able to listen to their internal warnings, the noise never fails to put them on high alert.

Shatter glass in case of emergency, only what's the emergency here?

What am I doing, writing here?

A novel about silence could fill my drafts

Or my tombstone might have enough words to write one

if anyone ever learned and knew me well enough to remember

what words were mine after I left

this mortal coil, recoiling from mortal relationships 

living instead solely within fantasies and fictional

forms of existence, if I even exist.

Do I even exist?

 I existed last night when I overshared, overflowed in a space

Nobody wanted my level of honesty within, my existing

met with strangers replying "I'm not qualified but..." or "dude, get some help"

Dude, get some help

Dude, shut the fuck up

Nobody cares what you have to say.

The inferno rages on, as I choke back smoke, eyes tearing with the struggle of existence. 

Eyes able to perceive what cannot be spoken, choked by the heaving effort of every inhale, exhale, inhale,

Exhausted, I fail to fight when his hands on me 

his hands are on me, on my - silence the urge to name where.

his hands are me, are me, are inside me -

Inside me, and I'm inside a burning inferno of being touched touched touched

Touched and silent, don't talk about him like that, don't make a monster out of a man

Don't make a monster when you know the real monster is yourself for feeling his hands inside you.

You know better, you know better, you know enough to

Write a novel about what you don't say

Or maybe merely a million poems, maybe merely mutiny

Silence ice the fire has evaporated completely today.