The Sounds Have Turn To Silence Poem by Michael Matsuda

Smoke comes billowing out of my head. I can smell it wafting around my nose. The opaque screen impairs my vision and now I am one human sense down.


Is it a dream?

Is it non-fictional?

Am I delusional?

I am blinded by what seems to be my thoughts physically and mentally hindering me from multitasking; unable to change the subject. I observe the vision projected on the fog screen and see my thoughts. Why is it only I can see them? Can nobody else clearly see the smoke engulfing me except me? I give in to myself and think. Watching the deep thoughts, I notice that it isn't past or present, only hallucinations of a much sought after future, near and far.

I sit down and become controlled by this lackadaisical trance and ponder. My eyes become lead and my muscular endurance runs thin. My eyes burn to be closed.

I want to forget about this cloud but its noises keep me awake, a pitch that chills my blood. Furthermore, I cannot even hear the music transcending into my ears. As all of the sounds, mental and physical, while both still intangible, crash into each other and become a blur of a white noise. I drift away, falling into my own head. It is there I sleep however, the mind doesn't stop; it continues its hypotheticals in my dreams.

The smoke engulfs me once again. The embers of my mind continue to billow smoke and it is then I succumb; succumb to the power of my own thoughts...