And the rock cried out, no hiding place.

I suppose that the buzzing in my head was just looking for a place to escape. It reminds me of a bird, caught between two glass doors, destroying itself in a terrified bid for freedom. It found it, last night, somewhere between the sober, frank discussions and the floods of self-doubt and fear.

At first I thought it had gotten into the walls, and I listened for it, a glass pressed up against my ear. It wasn’t there, though — but the more I listened, the more I knew it was nearby, somewhere close.

I think it’s in my clothes, now. I can feel it on me if I stay very still, something like a skin.

5 thoughts on “And the rock cried out, no hiding place.

Leave a Reply