minor melody

Sometimes I appreciate the silence when things are silent. But could your mind be in a total silent, with no words said, no alphabets remembered, no pictures reminisced? I am noiseless and full of sound, in my head, usually on friday or saturday nights, when the town greets me with the neon love and lustful lights. I'd choose to be home, to talk to the wall, as i heard walls have ears, and I have fears.

The wall, the canvas bag from the travel fair, the lost deodorant bottle, the heartfucking song from the 90s that I used to listen lovingly, the scattered pieces of my life; they'd all get together and dance and make a little party, you can see them in my balcony claiming their victory, and yeah they would rip me into pieces, shed me some light and remind me that i am only with myself and my crazy head. That'd be when I'd call it a night.

Then I'd dream of dreaming about me walking in that old plaza, thrown back by the scent and the memories pasted on every door I see, they are giant-they are hating me, I'd choose to take a bus home instead, fancying the town naked and the rows, the lanes, the streetlights kissing me goodnight. Lovelight, where should I be? In this town or in your memory, in the morning or by the sea, or in the sight of the old you I once wished free?

My heart is slit by your thin-noiseless minor melody.