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