Relentless

A special kind of madness. The kind of madness that we hide everyday, in our little homes, in our big cars, in our little hearts.

It envelops us one day. This kind of madness. We cry out, a piercing shriek resonating loud between our ears which we only hear, we suffer, we live with--day after day, month after month, sometimes submerging in the tiny fragile lives we have created on our own and sometimes we are dead.

How many of us keep living in this shrieking world where there is no peace, no quiet, no sanctified part of our life just spent cluttered with nothing.

* * *

And then at times there is this absolute quiet. No more noise, and dead, deathly silence. Does the silence pound into your ears making this momentary respite from--what do they call it--madness a strange sort of a test? Sometimes they plug your ears with ear wool. Sometimes they put you in those things they call asylums. Special cells, where all that screaming is supposed to stop because they strap you in a straitjacket & give you periodic electric shocks your senses are to be numbed to a sense of quiet. You rant and you scream, telling them its not working can we have some milk in here I'm really hungry and no one cares & no one listens and this dense quiet with the relentless screaming envelops you & soon you become quiet, struck dumb by the constant non-respite.

why would you do that. cant the screaming stop. why. who suffers this much. and the tell you its you, its you and you cant believe them because it cant be, it cant be...