Vacuums

Vacuums

Rocking back and forwards,
in the silence, in the dark
In a vacuum of our own noise
Searching for that spark
Seeking out a catalyst
Searching for the light
Some sound dependent from ourselves
Deemed neutral in our plight
Glancing out from curtains
Twitching where we hide
To hear someone's silence
The white noise locked inside
Behind the hard backed curtains
Bound in crooked spines
Of covers, don't be certain
The titles, they confine
Restricted by the imagery
The cover art on show
A moat surrounds the pageantry
With goldfish in a row
Lined up on the surface,
Neatly on the shelves
Deeper down piranhas prey
Turning on themselves
Beneath the frosted layers
Veneered sheets displayed
Icy sheets of coolness,
with quivered depth betrayed
Dismayed, the drawbridge lowers
For the privileged, the few
For the cursed ones, and the gifted
For the ones ones who fought on through
For the ones locked in their towers
Receptive to white noise
Kindred spirits and their bottles
With their optics, shots and ploys
Rocking back and forwards,
in the silence, in the dark
It takes a soul that's lost to find one
… you never lose that mark