Because I loathe

the endless IQ-empty babble

on the radio,

that the lady seems to need,

- especially since she's cut down on working hours,

and which most likely will tear us apart -

I have resorted, more and more,

to total silence,

even though I have the love & knowledge of & need

for all kinds of music from all kinds of places & ages,

and more often than not

dream about the hum of the Earth

as my desireable death, luxurious, ever-lasting;

my return to the elements, to the soil,

to the minerals,

deconstructed, chemical by chemical,

becoming that current of the Earth,

that impersonal, ego-less hum,

like that of distant cities; Beijing, Buenos Aires, Adelaide

from afar;

like the rustle of an ant hill, or cases of tinnitus;

the opposite of dumb-ass radio

filling every time-unit with suicidal babble

from & for ass-hole primates,

so dumb that their lives are entirely in vain,

making my hunger for destruction raise the rage

of a tsunami