i worry about the silence sometimes.

i don't mean the silence between you and i; i don't know what i mean. i worry that sometimes the world seems to stretch so far that my legs won't be able to match it, worry that the space between the stars is enough to keep me occupied for hours. i worry about the anger that knits itself through this world, seeping through the groundwater, maybe, or falling from the sky. i worry about the silence, the kind that hides a thousand words and keeps us ignorant but sucks away the bliss.

it has been a long, long day.