Dead air.

The silence sears like a cattle iron.
The dead air on the ground makes no sound.
Only the hum of foreign objects keeps me awake.
Bare trees outside the window sway to an invisible tune.Snow sits tenderly on the pane, only to be found as hard as ice.
I can’t go to sleep.
The hissing in my own head does it’s best to fill the void, but then maybe I have found peace.
If so I do not want it. Peace is for the lazy and idle; for those with limited desires. There is calm on a battlefield.
White walls and Ikea furniture press close as everything begins to swim. My grow heavy, stomach empty.
She sucked me until my soul left my body, though I did not know it at the time.

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