The flies that keep me up for hours
may be nothing.
But the rumble of the floor, the static of
is a problem which sends me sitting on my bathroom floor, door
and wanting to read a book. But it's not
possible and every day I awaken to hear the
and my head
aches from sunrise to
sunset. And yet
For I fear of hurting your feelings, you see.
And you'll box my ears with anecdotes
from bygone years and I'll start to choke.
Pride welling up
wishing I hadn't asked.
And you'll never stop talking
but nobody's listening.
But you cannot keep on topic.
But you cannot stop repeating the same thing
and over again.
Maybe I'll just put up with it and say: