Echoing sentences inside an empty shell
What can you do when one speaks so well
When fugitive and figurative
Language conspires
Life is but a rush of instinctive desires
Raindrops that patter
Along window sills
One at a time until all movement is still
Frozen and blank
In one ear, then out
No worries, no cares
No thoughts produce a shout
Twisting memories upon spires of words
No hurt, no dirt
Clean and pristine
Collapsed and unsure
Patterns and pliability
Suggestions and subjectivity
Dancing in radio waves and vibrations
Through mind, through brain
You can feel the sensations
A simple push to give in to the sound
Of voice and speech
Of sinking, to drown
In waves of wonder that pass inside that thought
Moving it, molding it
Boiling in a pot
Until it evaporates and easily disappears
Vanished, gone
So that voice is all you can hear
Once you're hooked, there's no return
Nothingness and eveloped
What's left of safe burns
