Mailroom Visitation

MAILROOM GHOST
like the whine of electricity but it has a hundred different patterns Looping over themselves the Ringing in my head plays in concert with the sound of all my fluids rushing through me where I can hear them up against my reverberatory bones

Dull cicada roar

Melodies

Far away the sound of some unknowable inner work of the building turning on in a rush of water or machinery the thousand little machines join as crickets or katydids do katydids make noise or maybe it is still just something I am hearing all to myself, the polyrhythms all gone, just a bright yellow field of sparkling light of noise over me, I can feel it going upwards and turning cold and clear again always riding back up like spawnswarm with just one or two birds inside but I know not to be scared of it anymore

Somewhere in the distance Someone clears their breath

i am not alone