Noise of No Signal

The dial scraped,

a needle on dry skin.

Trying to pull a voice through,

a song, a thin strand

of something familiar,

but the air was too thick,

too full of its own

grinding breath.

A hiss, then a crackle,

like tiny sparks flying,

a thousand small arguments

in the space between here

and there, where the music should be.

It was always this way,

a barrier of sound,

a constant hum,

that made my teeth numb.

Just white noise,

eating everything else,

a silent rage,

turning the page

on connection,

a lost direction.