The Man Who Loathed Whispers.March 23, 2009 at 7:07 pm | Posted in poetry, prosepoemthingy, writing | 13 Comments
Tags: black, poetry, prison tattoo, tattoo poetry, writing
As he got slowly older his hearing started to go. Not surprising since he had spent so much of his life wearing headphones, sometimes to listen more closely to the pins dropping in the lock and others to block out the perpetual cacophony of other people’s lives.
It has reached the stage now that he can’t hear much at all except the moan of his voice in his throat and chest and he wonders when they will feed him again.
He hears the whisper of their approach and closes his eyes even though it is already pitch black.