Thursday, 4 March 2010

So much noise that I can't listen to what's important.

Everyday, I hear people shout at each other:
husbands and wives, sons and parents.
I don't hear the soft moaning of love,
or the tender strokes of caresses, though.
It's quite sad to live in a world filled with noises
from horrid events, like car crashes and fighting,
the sirens of ambulances and the rumbling of buildings,
all these noises making our atmosphere so polluted.

By the end of each day, in my room, as it gets colder,
I hear everything surrounding me, outside, even far.
An acoustic show of splashes of the building's door banging,
the knocks on the floor from the heels of the ladies,
a bit before they get to exit and even after, on the sidewalk.
There's a stream flowing, of buses and subways
and everywhere the peoples' rushes and the cars in the highway.
This river bursting of life is nothing but the dead remains
of everything that was once right.
And another intermittent noise, crawls inside the walls,
sometimes like sand that falls
and other times just water storming through pipes.

Everyday, I have to chase the noise away, but it's hard to do it,
when you're not putting cotton balls in your ears
and just trying to control your rage and fears.
Yes, because, everyday I'm afraid that the noise of the people
will transform itself into a lost bullet or a flying stone,
or the stormy water pipes will reveal themselves into earthquakes
and the building of 13 stages where I live in, on the ground floor,
will collapse on top of me.
Some people might realize I'm paranoid and I do it for a living.

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