How Quiet Can it Get.

It can get really, really quiet. When the noise around you accumulates like water bursting out a fountain for the first time, it will get really quiet. When the white fur on your skin starts to disintegrate, it will get really quiet. So quiet, you feel like you are becoming deaf.


Detangling the web of nothingness we get stuck in is most probably the most important challenge we face every now and then.


It can get so quiet

that your ears start to bleed

so quiet that the things you beat yourself up over

simmer in the depth of your cushions, vacant of emotion

so quiet that the world turns white and soft

fuzzy almost

shedding fur

like a white lamb, among other white lambs

surrounded by a guard dog

or perhaps yourself

not allowing yourself to wander of

soon to be shaved and commodified

by what you believe you have been put here on this earth to do

not for you

to be enjoyed or created

but for duties and commodities

so quiet

yet again

that you start to create your own noise finally

screaming and ripping away the fur

that was never your own

and shall never be

for everyone to see that ownership comes

by leaving pre-owned territory.