Closed off little spaces.
Monsters scream as the pulse races.
All alone. Just waiting in the dark.
The angels strike a chord upon the harp.
Music begins to fill the void.
Then the notes are symbolically destroyed.
It’s quiet. The voices begin to chatter.
The noise level climbs up the decibel ladder.
A deafening roar is then heard.
Containing nothing more than jumbled words.
But nothing is ever seen.
The gaping hollow continues to grow deep.
