Slight echos of their many voices

Dance through my ears

Stomping out all other sounds

And then disappearing again

I’m lost without this sound

This sound running over my cold arms

Manifesting into a word

A word that pricks me with its sharp letters

Small drops of me fall onto the ground

As I dance to the sounds

Of nothing

The sky falls down

And the ground reaches higher

I gravitate to nowhere

With nothing to set my movement on

Clouds become my walls between the gravities

I fall upwards

And land on the roof of a skyscraper

That reaches high enough to touch the ground

Words form from the falling water drops

I reach my hands into the cold

And sculpt the demented shoutings

Into non-solid utters

This locution becomes mine as I take the liquid words into my hands

And change them to yells of gentle things

The skyscraper shakes as I run across its ceiling

Screaming the things

Everyone was afraid to say

That led me to where I am

A word where dreams are the reality

And reality is a part of imagination

I wish for a time of the truth

Not the made believable by children's innocent sayings

Their twisted words manifested

Inside my aberrant mind

Now that I stand on the sky

I make my own words

Under the high ground

With the rain that falls from the grass and trees