Aleah Dye: 2 Poems
Rapture's Sound
He lives
in the rhythm
1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and
5 times he looks at me
Drumming out a beat
only he can hear
But he tries to play it
for me anyway
On my chest
between my hips
against any exposed skin
He hums and
taps
and I stare
wondering
What is the cost
of having a mind
that gives you everything
but
rest
To Noise-Making
Why are people so quiet?
I am angry—I’ve been wanting
this lately: a chance
to explode, to tear down walls
with my sound, my screams,
while the rest of them stand slack-
faced, mouths thin lines
giving nothing to no one.
My feet are burning
with every well-placed step,
with every neck I hold down
until they admit they, too, need
to scream.
I don’t want
to like this, this gnawing,
ravenous pressure
inside my head.
Not today. Please,
not today. I was promised
an audience, but they are too
damn quiet.
When my brain explodes
with the glaring silence,
when my blood spatters
across their hardened jaws,
I’ll try not to
like it.
Aleah Dye (she/her) primarily writes poetry, tending towards topics of morbidity, love, social justice, and philosophy. She is dreadfully afraid of imperfection and spiders, in no particular order. She has a one-eyed cat named Ivy and a one-track-minded (food!) cat named Rosebud. Aleah hopes to make hearts grow three sizes with her words. Read her latest work via publications like Ang(st) Zine, mineral lit mag, and Malarkey Books. Follow her @bearsbeetspoet on Twitter.