And at one time it was thought by all to not be the stench that it was and continues to be, yet instead it was referred to as urban decay.

Urban decay; vomit and piss – little difference.

As a child, my ears bled. I would wake up to find little dark brown splotches dotting my pillow. Though I complained, it wasn’t until I ruined a sufficient number of pillow cases before my mother decided it was time to take me to see a doctor. He sent me to a Otologist. She sent me to a Neurologist. He sent me back. Eventually, it was found that I had an acute sensitivity to sound. A rare case. My eardrums could not handle the stress of everyday sounds. It wasn’t until I almost went deaf listening to Kraftwerk for the first time (it took two weeks for the hearing to come back but three for the pain to leave), before my mom started enforcing my treatment. “Treatment” consisted of self-induced deafness. Some of my classmates complained about braces. I didn’t tell anyone I had a reverse hearing-aid, they just sort of assumed I was dumb.

Between the whitemouth crack-head with scaly skin and the nondescript hustler, trying desperately to turn her out, was the entrance to the tube.

From shit hole to an even shittier hole; urban decay incubated by the warmth of the underground…almost home.

There was this time I was in a field, near a stream. I could not hear anything through my unhearing aid, yet desperately wanted as much. By this time, my ears were much more sensitive and as such I was quite careful to protect myself from any sudden sounds. I slowly notched the volume wheel up, pausing at each small click and quivering at every new sound. I didn’t turn it all the way up; just as I began to flinch at the roar of the stream, I heard something. Rather, someone. At first I had to play with the volume, to get it just right so that I could handle the amplified nails on chalkboard that were the birds and still just barely begin to make out what the voice was saying. Rather, what she was saying. Rather, singing. The stream ultimately made it too hard for me to comprehend her. I found other places though, more quite places. And once I happened upon noise-canceling headphones at the mall, I could hear her anywhere.

Streaked bleak early morning sky. The tube was always bleak and never morning…never anytime. The tracks hummed the weight of the train as I closed my eyes and slipped on my headphones, she then hummed the weight of my soul and quickly found me dreaming. How lucky was I.

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