sick in bed
I hear talking outside
the fan is blowing too fast
that motorcycle is too loud
somebody’s music is playing obnoxiously
every sound is intrusive
how did they get so ugly in my head?
like a chipped tooth smile
perhaps the sounds aren’t disgusting but I am
a sickly man in his bed
who looks at everything as an annoyance
instead of just accepting—
it’s the world going round and round
like a carousel
I can’t get off of
it’s some ride
the only ride
and I am bitching
the whole way through it
what an unpleasant sound
