Sweet nothings fill my head.
The sweetest words have silence behind them, and my ears have been ringing for a lifetime with a beautiful buzz.
I raise my fist in a room full of strangers, in a city unknown, and I feel unity.
Drunken, slurring unity.
It is a false representation of something I grasped just long enough to know what fell through the cracks.
Stoned happiness, something like acquiescence, an imitation of that buzz in my ears.
A sound persisting through each new place I place myself.
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