he says your name out loud, in miniature rooms where no one's found; it's a desperate sound. you're on the distant shore! and he wants to tell you stories, stories of boys who stomped their feet, saying, "shut, shut up—I am dreaming of places where lovers have wings."

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writing / ask

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

you are the lighthouse, the seamark. the tempests created this tide. I’m pulled to the black silver ocean, where the current and the heavens collide. you are the brick, I am so unpredictable, led by the current away. your solid stage is so necessary to all those who stray. you are the navigator who never could lead; we were lost in the silver sea. I was the ship who was too proud to ever sink.

I am your thought but the water’s amnesia. my name’s on the tip of your tongue. my image is slipping, but your memory is gripping it - this is my breath in your lungs. you are the navigator who never could lead.

echo, my voice is an echo of places I don’t know, and stories I’ve been told. echo, we are all connected, a lighthouse, a voyage, for history’s sake, will you please take notice?

THE HUSH SOUND - Echo


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