It’s a serrated blade,
dragging through the meat of my mind,
slow and deliberate.
Hmmm. Hmm. Hmmm.
A meaningless dirge.
A sound without a purpose.
A sound that should not exist.

They sit there—
lips barely parted, jaw slack,
eyes glassy with smug oblivion—
and hum.
Like their very breath has to remind me
they are alive.
That they occupy space.
That there’s no escape from their small,
petty insistence
on being heard.

Hmmm. Hmm. Hmmm.
It’s in my teeth now.
Vibrating through enamel,
splitting my skull like an eggshell.

I clench my teeth;
it only makes the sound louder.
I press my nails into my palms,
digging half-moons into soft flesh,
a weak tether to reality.
But it’s slipping,
draining through their insipid, incessant tune.

Do they even know?
Does that hollow cavity between their ears
understand the havoc they’re wreaking?

Hmmm, hmm. Hmm.
They hum like a goddamn parasite burrowing into my brain,
a melody they’ve long forgotten the origin of,
if it even had one.
There’s no structure. No symmetry.
Just the audacity of noise.

I imagine it:
turning to them,
grabbing their shoulders,
shaking them until that vile vibration
is ripped from their bones.
I imagine pure silence
as they choke on their own absent-minded symphony.
Imagine the peace of finally
teaching the world to shut up.

But no.
I sit in restraint.
Let it buzz in my skull,
chew through my thoughts,
devour me whole.

Hmmm. Hmm. Hmmm.
It eats, and they don’t even know.