White noise rudely interrupted

By a crescendo of silence.

Foreboding's familiarity

Shackled cold feet

To bruised roots.

Supple skin weeps

At bladed whispers

That tightly wind

Their way around

A fragile neck

In a vice noose.

Fingernails of phantom hands

Scrape along the chalkboard

Of the dim haven.

The faceless assailant

Finally dissipates.

The silence decrescendos,

Shoulders slump in relief

With open arms eager

To re-embrace the

Sweet thrum of

White noise.