Do you ever have noise in your head?
Not words or even murmurs, just static instead.
A grainy, migrainey tight-templed feeling,
that leaves me wanting to do, but only reeling.
The sound is loud and my anxiety is taut
Like there’s no room for real thought
inspiration-seeking creates the noise
a punishment for vain, forced ploys?
My job tells me to write about water
days and days I graze the same fodder
sometimes my appetite whet for swim chat
sometimes I want to veer far from the chlorine vat
be present they say, don’t let the day get away
but when I sit still, my thoughts the sound will kill
a cumbersome load without having any weight
the clamor of nothing making me late
maybe the professor was right and poetry is freeing
but somehow these words make me feel I’m fleeing
dodging the stories begging to be written
but sometimes I don’t see them unless bitten
gnawed on by a cause pleading for attention
rips at my heart because it deserves a mention
those are the stories the noise keeps me from hearing
or is the noise here so I’ll notice a clearing?
so I can appreciate moments when the mind is quiet
maybe that’s it, maybe I don’t buy it.
this ruckus could be an imagined commotion
something to excuse me from utter devotion.
Comments
Awesome poem Annie