A conversation with silence. A colloquy with reticence. Tinted wisdom seeps through the humid air in the dusk room and through his parted lips. Words echoed against untouched space and repetition burned his skin. He sat, unmoved, however, and took the affliction valorously with his spine curved over his imperfect torso, filled with imaginary aliment to promise his dying body imagined energy. His dark hair had no movement to it because although he spent most of his time at the bottom of his tub, it never got washed. The oil residing on his exposed skin only made the fire touching him burn more.
He sat in stillness for so long that his bones began to grow together and his eyes dried to represent stone. What no one would notice was that inside his statue, his mind raced a war against the silence around him. It slowly became aware to his soul that he didn’t know where he was. The place he once understood to represent refuge became undistinguished to his conscience. He sat unmoved because one breath would force him to accept that body he hid in was his and that his life had come to socializing with silence. Reverence only lasted as long as his mind could hold its breath, before it started to spill and overflow. Silence only had so much capacity that his reflections filled the space until it burst at the seems, leaving no room for movement. Not even a breath could fit in the tight air that held silence.
Silenced conversations are ignorant to the fact that its counter has something to claim. Its identity suppresses him while surrounded and his chin raises slightly to allow subtle breaths. A friend better than death and an enemy worse than life, silence persists.
The shadows against the white washed walls moved leisurely and he placed himself in the mind of the one thing he could see that never took up space. It was disburdened from anything but what stood between itself and the light. It was hidden from veracity all its life. How sad, he thought, to exist with restriction to what was held in the light. Bliss of ignorance came with a heavy price. But as he sat, restrained by consuming silence, he found noise breaking open the seams of his closed room. He blinked and his neck turned stiffly to notice shadows that belonged to noise under the crack in his door. Air was allowed into his lungs as the air shifted to compensate the movement that traveled and broke silence. All it took were mummers of his friends on the other side of the door to break the chains that held him in his silence. A once lonely space started to fill with the hope that a conversation with reticence was no longer holding him in its stare. His movement brought the springs under his mattress to squeak and silence was stabbed again. Repetitious thoughts turned into continuous sounds that defeated the quiet.
Distraction proved its authority and as his reality caught up, he became aware of the door’s vibration and the sound that followed. His voice still gathering, he opened the door to witness three worried sets of eyes looking directly at his dull eyes starting to find moisture.