these vibrations in the carpet are buzzing through the bottoms of my feet like a warm static silence in tones of grey. i thought i told you i was broken here. now all you can see is the morning fading with the sound of your voice and (wait) 'life's too short'... it seems so blatant in its secrecy; chrome spiders crawling behind the shelf for safety, trying to hide their presence in the abence of our room. somewhere in the static of this carpet, i felt my muscles tense as i watched the tragedy drip from my fingers to your lips and roll like laughter down your chin, sandpaper canvas, but soft like something real. you told me, and i already knew. the carpet was littered with landmine secrets and the loss for words where it smoothed out and numbed my toes. 'shh... it's the pavement' you whispered, and i shut my eyes to still my rapidly beating heart.