That absence of noise, substitued by an inconspicuous entity which seeps into your head like trickling acid and invades your thoughts.
In a flourescent lit room, even the walls seem to be screaming to you.
It creeps into every crevice, the way salt water manages to sting even the most secretive cuts.
What goes unnoticed usually stages the most dramatic scene.
The build up.
The beauty in the breakdown
Truth is, everyone is nescient to some extent.
We don't ever want the apparent truth of our own imprefections.
We refuse to pay attention to every single breath. The rise, and the fall.
The sound of silence is becoming unbearable, and suddenly you're slipping.
You need something to break your fall.
Anything. Someone. Anyone.
It's looking hazy, and these scratches still sting.