Background Noises

Listlessly watching tonelessly seeing Hands twisted into the harmony of defeat Minds growing with the molds of the unfolding Of the sonnet of fate and its moments of discreet Senses drowning into the pit of your false confidence The urgent beating of a broken heart Cascading velvet shuddering under the weight of the wind Twirling among the blackness of this art Tapping awareness in the annoying glare of an eye Simple caress in the world in which you try Little baby longing for its mother Or the mournful wail of a wolf before it dies You hear them everywhere, you cannot escape them They are your leeches that haunt your every thought and dream It is almost impossible to win against such renewing, of a busted mind mourning to its very last frail seam