silent mode

my father sits on the couch,

his eyes hazy like dirty dishwater.

his skin is washed out by the tv,

rippling in blue waves of light.

i hang by the doorway,

silent and protected by the darkness.

my toe creates a circle from the dust

clinging to the scratched wooden floor.

my father doesn't notice,

solely focused on the bloodshed and soldiers

broadcasted on the news.

a faint yellow light fights against the blue hue,

sneaking through the boarded window.

everything is quiet in no man's land.

i fade into the blackness, becoming nothing.