Poetry | Journal

Sometimes I hear things. Not like a crazy person, but somewhat I suppose. I know why, and exactly what I’m hearing though so, not at all actually. The fan in this room has a sound, a white noise. Well, with my head at the right angle, I hear almost another layer of it’s sound. I know though its just the sound bouncing off the wall to hit my ear drum in a way that creates a localised echo. Like an extra windy beach whipping around in your ears. I like to imagine that it’s some music of my subconscious playing louder than its headphones can contain, or the sound of another universe drifting over our own, but I’m a little crazy. But really, when sleep deprived, who isn’t?