Chaos & The Quiet

By Eve Hinson, & #TheReal5150

I stand here barefoot on carpet,
the fiber of comfort and home pressed into my soles.
My roommate,
The Quiet, stands with me.

We watch branches and leaves swing through a wet window.

The Quiet doesn’t echo the cacophony in my mind.
Instead it’s a friend and wraps me in a swathe of emptiness
like a blanket.
It provides comfort in fear,
and its silence feels like a threadbare and button-eyed love
hugged fierce in the dark.

It comforts more than honeyed chamomile
and says absolutely nothing when I need it the most.

The Quiet is never jealous when I return home.
It doesn’t chide that I stink of Chaos
and then shame me for where I’ve been.

solitude is always offered
and I’m reminded this is where I belong.
No matter what, I can always be here
and seek peace from the constant crackle of the storm.

Oh, but I love to be drunk with Chaos.
It’s scented with Life.
Rebellion of The Quiet can be delicious and decadent.
The body-high incredible when saturated with voice,
intoxicated with vibration
and drenched in indiscriminate light.

And that’s not enough.
My skin seeks what it can’t always have, human touch.
It need be nothing more grandiose than a pressed-cheek hello
and honest hug.
Even a sincere handshake will do — that brief, warm connection to real life.
A moment of humanity.

Fuck, I’m alive. To hell with The Quiet and bring on the noise.
I fight Chaos. I fight pain.
I rage against the invisible and stand emboldened again

Welcome me into the world.
Your bumping, thumping, chiming, beeping, clicking
noise-dominated world.

I want to hear your chatter, songs, and curse.
Light me up with a message flash, photosnap, headlight swerve,
blinking streaking electronic billboard,
streetlight and spotlight.
Share with me the synchronicity of community.

I want to know your vibe and feel your heart.
Let’s dance. Let’s play. Let’s read our words.
Smack the table. Ring the bell. Roar and applause.
Conversation overlapping conversation.

It doesn’t matter that the commotion shorts my wiring.
Like an addict, my brain’s dependent and I need more.
More of you. More of this. Give me decadence.

Give me decadence until my head explodes
and knees smack the floor
Let’s overindulge until I Shake, Rattle and Hum
a staccato inconsistent to tunes Bono has sung.

Let me feel alive completely — this one moment
full. sensory. integration.
I’m going to do this until Chaos and rebellion fry my mind.

Even then, I’ll be unapologetic when
Writhe and Agony arrive.
With my unrepentant soul spent,
I will seek The Quiet, my mistress of Silence,
to love me healthy
so I can flirt with Chaos again.

‪#‎thereal5150‬ ‪#‎weareworthy‬ ‪#‎middlefinger2stigma‬


13 Comments Add yours

  1. Jesus Christ, hellofa debut poem!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Becky says:

    Oh fantastic poetry! From all that you’ve shared with me, I can see that the quiet has brought you relief yet you still desire human interaction and the stimulation of everyday life. Beautifully said!.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Joyful2bee says:

    This can also apply to aging. When you crave the quietness and security of your home. Your joints and muscles sore from exercises overdone. Yet move you must to enjoy each day. I need to work on that! It sounds like a poem! Beautifully written and wonderfully descriptive!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh yes, totally similar
      then. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  4. katelon says:

    Wow….going to Re blog. Awesome poem, thanks.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. katelon says:

    Reblogged this on Empower and Balance and commented:
    Had to share this powerful poem. I can relate to the pull between desiring and reveling in passionate interaction with life and also needing the reprieve that comes with aloneness and quiet.

    Hope you enjoy this poem as much as I did.

    Liked by 1 person

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