empty solace


My life is a constant

Jazz Orchestra,

the smooth, violence

of a trumpet in

some dead-beats stubby fingers,

all band hands digitizing my reality

at a pace unbeknownst to me,

the whole charade

uncontrollably

moves me,

quite literally.

It will end,

this is my empty solace.

Some day the noise will stop,

the fear

is

silence.

#352