It’s all noise now. No silence anywhere. The city breathes—too close, too hot. Every sound overlaps, every hum sticks to my skin. I can taste it. The air tastes like metal and secrets.
They’re here. I can’t see them, but I feel the weight of their gaze pressing down on the back of my skull. The lights… they hum my name. Not out loud. Underneath. In the static. In the breath between words. They know I can hear them.
The shadows move wrong. They stretch too far, reach too high. I saw one crawl up a wall once—like smoke that decided it didn’t need gravity anymore. I looked away. I always look away. The trick is not to look too long, or they’ll know you’ve seen.
All content for The Intrepid Birdman Show is the property of The Intrepid Birdman and is served directly from their servers
with no modification, redirects, or rehosting. The podcast is not affiliated with or endorsed by Podjoint in any way.
It’s all noise now. No silence anywhere. The city breathes—too close, too hot. Every sound overlaps, every hum sticks to my skin. I can taste it. The air tastes like metal and secrets.
They’re here. I can’t see them, but I feel the weight of their gaze pressing down on the back of my skull. The lights… they hum my name. Not out loud. Underneath. In the static. In the breath between words. They know I can hear them.
The shadows move wrong. They stretch too far, reach too high. I saw one crawl up a wall once—like smoke that decided it didn’t need gravity anymore. I looked away. I always look away. The trick is not to look too long, or they’ll know you’ve seen.
All of it is true, but none of it is real, dip once more into the cluttered wardrobe of the Intrepid Birdmans tormented mind.
The Intrepid Birdman Show
It’s all noise now. No silence anywhere. The city breathes—too close, too hot. Every sound overlaps, every hum sticks to my skin. I can taste it. The air tastes like metal and secrets.
They’re here. I can’t see them, but I feel the weight of their gaze pressing down on the back of my skull. The lights… they hum my name. Not out loud. Underneath. In the static. In the breath between words. They know I can hear them.
The shadows move wrong. They stretch too far, reach too high. I saw one crawl up a wall once—like smoke that decided it didn’t need gravity anymore. I looked away. I always look away. The trick is not to look too long, or they’ll know you’ve seen.