Noise

You crave noise to stoop
and cheer the icons
within your sight
                    that
loiter like specters
in front of you, a sight
inside this world
                   and so near
your nostrils, with
a manner of
injecting disturbance
to a crowd,
egging on violence
                   from the surface
penetrating into humanity.

You crave noise
to hear
falsehoods
                   that
drift away
from the truth in
your bottle
                   that
wasted so many lives,
growing
the vine, begging
the sun, the earth
                   and
the downpour
                   just
to shove the grapes
under feet.

You crave noise
to deny
the existence
of your own voice,
quivering
with hunger
to be heard.