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.