Silence

Tonight I believe the silence will kill me. It waits for me to move with a million tiny needles capturing me in a steel web sarcophagus.

I stare at the covering of my wagon above me.

I dreamt last night that I fell off a cliff but I did not rush towards the ground below me. I was left suspended. Hanging between the sky and the grass, weightless. If I could I would capture that feeling over and over again.

But tonight I am heavy. And if I move I know the pins will sink deep into my flesh and so I lay here anchored to the floor of my wagon, my mind empty and numb, only a vestige of the desire to be inspired left behind on the edges of my subconscious.
Is it because I am alone? Is it because there is no sound of breathing next to me to ease the emptiness? If there were only a sound to break the spell.

A whispered sound. Something quiet and wraith like that eased through the pins without disturbing them. A mist of something to drift over my fevered skin like a cool rain upon the dry heated plains.

Instead ... there is only left to me the treason of the darkness.