I drown out my mind with endless songs, always searching for a melody to methodize my careless thoughts.
I do not enjoy silence.
Silence is for those who wish to explore themselves, delving deep within; I have no such wish.
When I venture into my mind of my own volition I see what I want to see: Faeries, Daemons, horrific creatures that defy description. Ships of liquid gold hurtling through space. Worlds ablaze, bathing their moons in a harsh, morbid red glow.
Nascent thoughts undulating in the void.
But when I sit in silence, alone, my mind forces my hand, leading me to the darker corners of my being. Places from my past. Places I had hoped never to visit again.
Memories.
Accentuating the darkness around them with their sinister glow they flicker knowingly, hauntingly, awaiting my return.
As the silence propels me further, the memories begin to sear my flesh, renewing welts they had rended long ago. My screams, silent and tranquil against the darkness, extinguish the flames and the shadows quickly advance.
I drown out my mind with endless songs, always searching for a melody to methodize my careless thoughts. I do not enjoy silence.
Poetry
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I also hate silence. My thoughts aren’t friendly, and I don’t know what would happen if I’m left alone with them for too long.