i hear the ringing in my head synchronized to the beat of the clock hanged on the plain white wall and my thoughts sing as a choir sometimes on sundays the lawn mowers join in so i try to block everything out i count from one through ten in hopes of falling back to sleep but one through ten goes only for so long before i count from one again and by that time i count with the clock at times when the clock stops only after forever i can hear the birds and wonder why i only hear them in obnoxious hours but then there’s a possibility that those aren’t birds for all i know the white noise is just another version of the ringing in my head
©2018, Quiyet Brul
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