In the sentiment of silence,

ten tubular bells play a discord 

with six sirens attacking the syntax from before

and the rush of blood and of water roaring, beats

down the dam doors like a heart on collapse

battering the ram and steel bars in my ears.

no coch linear hearing here,

I forever called the great halls of

 Silia.

Most vengeful wrath;

suffer the noises 

of  merciless harpy galls

and their poises

of mockery.

The same guitar screeches

I burst drum and bass lined to,

attack me with axes and haunt me

guitars wild with feedback .

Woe without solace,

 harmonious blisses,

 wistful esoteric like kisses

of blank sheets of undisturbed sound. 

Torture, the intermittance like water

dripping your senses

stripping

the familiarity of nothing.

What sin begets the hell of inconstant din?

i fell, my head smashed in

and why every victim, pitiless  

 cried,

as life is now without and about a

thrashing for a quieter time.

Under my sea,

In warm baths of 

soulful wash,

I escape the amps of land 

and knots of seaweed, 

As honey pours the buzz.

In this gold only

I hear the taunting glories

alone,

like the sick victory of enemies

it permeates

the shottened membranes

and forms a balm in thicker

liquid, protects the soul from barbs

and all those aggrieved pities

of Tinnitus..