disconnected I flee
mundane torpedoes of sound
piercing fragility’s snake
winding itself through and through
my breath
trapped I am
this illusory throat

disconnected I am
this cacophony
of daily mechanisms
of barking dogs
screaming thoughts
at small innocents

disconnected I confess
mercurial seasons
a knot in the circadian rhythm
a small death with
disintegrating auditors
clamorously self indulgent

and this
now that the sounds have passed
means little
in the dance of wassailing silence


Thanks for visiting. Write to me at lynnvarian@gmail.com

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