stuck below hope

violent whispers grate at your ears,
sending you to states of convulsion,
crackling knuckles,
type upon ivories
and teeth clack along to the beat.

you're screaming,
but no one can hear you,
but you didn't expect anything different,
at least, not really.

hope is so much different from expectation,
the lower the better,
for the latter,
that ladder would never hold me anyway,
so i shan't be climbing anywhere
higher, today.