Silence drags away the soul. Silent words, failure to act, you are caught at your fingernails dragging across the earth. Begging to hold on to existence of your soul, you don’t speak first. Idiot. You listen. Awake from your slumber in that peculiar fashion you decide to curl up into. Notice the curves that create well established and soon to be aged grooves. Those are your dreams and nightmares buried in between. You can’t see them but they still manage to tell a story about you.

Back away from the wall. Idiot. The quiet one is still quiet. His soul continues to drag on across the surface of the earth, lost in the nothingness, his own destruction. Ever felt that a force kind of decided to close it’s faucets and drain you of even a little bit? Yes, that loss, maybe creativity, serenity, eternity, it all becomes momentary. Caught in still motion. Stretch your mind apart, pull your thin fibers of neurons and nerve endings.

You have to wake up. Idiot. Listen as your ear is filled, the canvas being painted on with a soft, almost dreamy brush. Come on, you don’t want your soul to drag on anymore. The edge is near and once you let go, recovery isn’t an option (though some lie about it’s possibility). Don’t be fooled. You have only yourself to speak into your soul. Slowly, the slumber will be torn away from you, like a thick scab peeled off by the force of a closed car door dragging you along.

Wake up from your slow sleep. Wake up, intelligence.