Shimmer

Look at you,

giving it all

you have.

Listen to you,

refusing to go

gently.

There is no sound;

no roar

in my old ears.

Only

the scream

my eyes hear.

It's ok

to just be

mystified

in these times.

Making sense

doesn't make sense.

Pretending

to fiddle reels

in the driveway

at midnight

seems sensible

when this

overload invades.

Done