24 - the voices

What made me silent for years and decades are the voices. Once when this  City was filled with people it was a noisy cluster; noisy for the ears. I don´t know what kind of antenna i own, what kind of sensibility, but i had to hear the voices in the people´s heads too. And i was still a child when the dead found out i could hear them. Thenceforth apparently every being from everywhere and every time wished to tell me their anger. 

THIS IS MY MESSAGE TO YOU: Please join me in listening! My hope, unfulfilled until now, is, that any additional listener would help comforting the voices.

I tell you what´s waiting for you: unhappy, dissatisfied plaintive voices. I can have no clear own thought, when the mourners fill me with their shit, their complaints about their lost lifes. I don´t judge and i have no clue how to do it any better; they themselves tell me every detail how they succesfully ruined their lifes. 

Nothing you can tell a voice. A voice never listens. 
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Not all  voices are crap rubbish. When i fail for a certain time to hear the fine wise voices out of the mourning choir i become a lamenting voice myself. How embarrassing!



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