Tinnitus Silence


From a hellish cold
Bout of lonely depression.
Never deep enough
Only deep enough
To watch the red river flow.

And ready to give up everything
Because everything
Is a static stagnant moment of nothing.
The world can’t see
Violence behind closed doors
And vibrant grins.

Behind his eyes there is a prison
Where he spies
A guarded father
Just as ready to smash his dreams
As he is ready to smash his face.

Yard time
Is in the sanctuary of a church
Where wolves dress as sheep
Turning sheep into wolves
And making feasts of those
Unwilling to convert.

He can’t fit the mold
So he stands alone
Fending off snapping jaws
Hiding behind legalistic laws
Of a faith they don’t believe
But need in order to survive.

Play that Christian music
White boy.
Raise the crowd to its feet,
Any ass in the seat,
Is a heathen to be converted
Or eaten.

I am him.
I was him.
And I made it out alive
Partially intact.
But my mind is still a labyrinth
Where ghosts and I
Still play hide and seek.
Like Pacman,
But the stakes are much higher.

Is the sound of a tinnitus silence
Where their voices
Are only a muffled crashing
Of never ending violence.


About St Basil Z Fish

Curator of the strange and incredibly awkward. A rambling writer with the misguided notion he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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1 Response to Tinnitus Silence

  1. J.S. Mueller says:

    All I can say is, I wish I could write like that. But I don’t think I’d want to pay the dues you’ve paid in order to be able to.

    Liked by 1 person

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