A Dead Set of Headphones

Dead in my tracks
A priest in the high
Standing by a tree
Underneath a satellite
Underneath a dying sun
In-between a dead set of headphones
Can’t hear the air
Can’t feel my face
Can’t believe I waited for this
The surface is in the distance
Like a window on a high-rise
Like a cloud beneath the sea
I’m a tidal wave of emptiness
I’m a fish in a tree
Too good to be true
Just too lost to find you
Wheels on pavement
Nails on a chalkboard
Voices echo like fading bouquets
Howling scissors in a pop can
Drifting to the bottom of the top
Snapping fingers play foreign melodies
This music is making me sleepy
Doors to places unknown
Spread thin across a vast page
Blank stare from a reflection
What does the mirror say?
What does the reflection suggest?
Why can’t I get your voice out of my head?
How do I make such a mess?
I'm hearing your voice through a dead set of headphones.