Fluctuations.

by Poet on the Piano   Mar 28, 2014


Your frequency is high,
granting me an incidental
high as you stimulate my
atmosphere.

You are nicotine.
Five minutes ago I would
have given up the clothes
off my back for a taste
of silence,
for a chance to rest
on the ground without
this bewailing.
Now, when the drilling
takes a break
and my mind
doesn't babble and bang,
I feel like an outsider
who is chemically
impaired
by silence.

-
Written 3/28/14 @ 11:09 PM
I'm on my lunch break in my school's library and there is this drilling that has been going on for about ten minutes. I'm probably going to go further in the library to get away from the sound, because it's the one day I didn't bring any music or earphones. But I decided to write about it while I'm here!

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Latest Comments

  • 10 years ago

    by Baby Rainbow

    Wow I love this one guinea pig!

    The title caught my eye actually.

    I think you done so well to describe this little moment, the situation you found yourself in, and what it represented for you. It is funny how we can take something so small and get such a deep meaning form it to write about.

    I like your ending, kind of hinting that the sound is so powerful, and has felt like it has been there so long, that it would be odd if it suddenly stopped. IT also reminded me that when things like this happen, loud noises such as the drilling, once it stops, your ears feel ringing with silence... you know what I mean. It is like they cannot believe the sound is over haha.

    Nice worded little poem, well done.

  • 10 years ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    I like this poem an it reminds me of having a silent moment and somehow there is a distraction from far.

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