A quiet solitude left un-noticed.
Perhaps, in our heads there resides some long forgotten civilization. A place of better times covered in the thicket of the wet shit of today. Once in a while we might find the appropriate shovel and dig hard until we reach metal. It is then, I suggest that the sound reverberates of the clang and cascades down our bodies filling our eyes with the spirals we so desperately crave.
The feeling never lasts though. We always lift our tool away and sigh, our old knees giving way to cracked whispers which begin their escape once again,