Listen to the sounds of dying souls
low-hummed mutterings escalating to roaring
incoherence. Crying out from the depths
of loneliness to no one, to someone.
Chattering endlessly only to say
nothing that goes beyond
the filtered air within
an occupied space.
““““
Living In the Corner of a Vortex 
This was so deep. Wow, Willow. π
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It was a hard one to write…thanks for reading. Your thoughts are much appreciated.
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Pleasure. π
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Not being heard or listened to is worse than being alone. A tragic everyday occurrence.
Intense what you wrote.
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It can be. Listening is such a wonderful virtue to have. Thanks Johnny shangrila la dear. I appreciate your thoughts always…okay, well, maybe not always π
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I read it a few time over: it gave me vertigo! Souls are supposedly indestructible but I am sure they fritter away bit by bit, or die just the way you have put it. A gem, both in shape and expression.
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Thank you for such generous words. Hope you were sitting down π
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