Well, the line breaks work better like this:
For True Silence.Thomas C Bell
I struggle awake again and again, consciousness is always so fleeting for me. I try to drown out the sound of the radio with little success – some tuneless garbage by some soulless corporate whore dubbed an “instant classic” by whichever moron is in charge of the studios iTunes today. I refuse to call them DJs when they use the same playlist for weeks on end. I know the song and singer will be forgotten within a month, I mean they’ve already forgotten that the song is just a dreadful rehash of a particularly mindless pop anthem, barely even rehashed; just a different backing tune being piped in from a computer, I’d be extremely naive to believe in a studio somewhere with the singer and a band all working together and going out for their “wrap party”. I know the sad truth is that its all one person programming the music, the simple beat even tuning the fucking singer’s voice for them. All one sick heartbreaking joke at the expense of all of us. This is what passes for new. Same shit different day, not that anybody would notice it’s a different day.
Gods strike this fucking song! I cant tune it out, whatever I’ve taken is providing far too much clarity; I must buy tranquilisers in future.
Why is the fucking radio on if nobody is here to listen? If this infernal noisebox were in an empty forest I know it would still churn out its endless squall and I would hear it no matter where I was. I would hear it as a stabbing blade through my very soul. I tell them to switch it off when they leave but of course they could give a shit.
Why must people envelope themselves with constant din, maybe if ever it were truly silent they might realise the world no longer has a song of its own; that it has been lost, replaced by the tawdry jingle mankind forced into its place. They would weep then for what they did, I hope, bury themselves in the earth for shame, to be forgotten, burn and shatter all traces of a people who never deserved to exist. Then maybe someday the world would sing its true song. Nobody would be around to hear it, but I believe it would make the purest and most beautiful sound. In fact I know it.
...as you have it here:
http://www.short-fiction.co.uk/newstories/show_story.php?story_id=5405But, aside from formatting, and perhaps some punctuation -- if any, really -- the
piece works for me on a lot of different levels. The theme is identifiable, there is
a point of view, a sense of place and time, and the tenses remain clearly definable.
Reading as a reader, I enjoyed the slow unrolling, and the tale took me to a place
different than where it began -- that is to say "something happened", and it wasn't
just a fleeting reverie coddled by pretty words, or a rhythmic lilt; it had gutz.
Were you looking for anything in particular in a crit?
Welcome to Mary.
Writing and Random Creativity Workshops 
