The Paradox Of Communication

A stream of sound
leads me
spite night blind eyes
through this shadow land
I scale your western wall with
talk, talk, talk
though your echoes bounce harmless
off my hollow heaving chest
each phrase falls armless
down cold damp wells
stuttered utterances drop
a flea hopping distance
mouth forms an O
as we amble silent till
that stream of sound
begins it all
again.