White Noise

Here you are again — 

that familiar hum

that low-pitched vibration

as if White Noise fucked Agony

and made a Depression baby

It would be a silent-shrieking Thing 

that no one could soothe

and then…

A far away voice —

Demeter, maybe?

— begs me to return

to come back up

but I can’t find the way

out of this maze

There are ladders everywhere 

ladders that  go nowhere

It’s a special type of hell this time

One where

I can hear the voices from the outside

and know there is Life

somewhere

But not in this place

Only this heaviness

Only this heartbreak

Only this desperation 

begging humankind to wake

But down here the inner Beggar just decays

Too little, too late

Too little.

Too late.

and quite frankly

I am left with nothing left

to say