I’ve cried everyday this week.
I should have been more specific when I prayed for consistency.
Afraid to think because thoughts open vaults that hold spinning records of bruised melodies, buried histories, and harmonies of dark memories, and…
I’m just tired of listening.
The pulled strings of my nerves serve as the acoustics.
I guess even thrillers require theme music.
The dramatics of my anatomy is entirely tiring. So I’ve prayed for silence, and ever since, when I hear those records turning- flooding inside of me with rhythms of catastrophe, naturally my eyes get watery.
I’ve always cried quietly.