static

The static is impossible.

I try to swim, but I drown in it.

It is quicksand and I am a rock, sinking further and further into the black.

The static cracks in my ears, like paper being shoved into my head pushing out my mind.

I don’t deserve to scream, only one of us can have a voice so I cut my tongue and bottle my consciousness, sending it out to sea. 

It will float there for a while, it will get so close to being far away from you, but the waves will pull it back down,

fill it's glass and take its cork.

Flood it's shiny exterior with algae and salt. 

On the seafloor it will sit.

Maybe one day a lonely crab will make a home out of the shell of my former brain.

You won’t go on without me.

You will fall from the tree and they will blame you for having weights on your wings.

You will cry out but no one will listen, because to them, it’s just another bird’s call.

They let your beak break and like the rest of them, you will slink into the sea

to join me in the sand where no light gets in and the static fills up your fingers.