With the weather clearly gone
off its meds, traded half-hours
of snow squall, then sunshine,
snow again. It's hard enough
when crazy is just in my head,
I don't need it quick-translated
into Barometer. Cheap-ass sky
couldn't cough up a rainbow.
Wouldn't change anything,
really, but we crazy people,
we may not look for them,
but we sure feel it when
they're not there. We read into
the absence of things, chase
paragons we think will heal
us; we are sensitive people
underfire from our own sense
sensitivity. This is a loud world,
you hear it through the walls
where I live, which is inside
my head. It is loud, then snow
is falling in my head, covering
sound the way snow does,
cooling off raging feedback,
letting night fall in my head.
Shush of snow, brings sleep
where the absence of things
is very much the whole point.
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