Buzz

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.