the planes chatter
loudly above
reminscent of
the trains that
used to pass
behind my house
the sound rattles
irritated ossicles
but it is silence
tearing me apart

the day is lazy
yet my mind races
unable to hear
the voice of the
story as it builds

seeds of chaos sprout
in the garden of
tranquility dying
as blackened thumbs
poison the soil of
creative wonderment
coherence a plane
headed elsewhere as
the earth shakes and
i cannot see the screen

hope has a serrated blade
causing far more
damage as it is pulled free
the quiet between flights
is a wire garrote
twisted around my throat
choking the light behind
an accumulation of clouds