The silence is deafening
More than the noise that I complained about
Now I can hear the click of your mouse
Now I know that you are awake
Do you hear the sound of my pencil?
Do you hear the sound of my agony?
The sound when a spark turns to flame, turns from fuel for a fire to drugs in my veins
The sounds of me searching my bags, merciless, unable to find what I want, or what I'm doing, or what I want to say
The sounds of me jerking off, for far too long
The Quran, played loudly, at all hours of the night
This is my call to prayer