The Hum-Beat

My monster is the hum.

It rattles beneath my feet

and in my head, a drum

which continues to beat

and beat, until the sum

of all I can defeat

is fully overcome

by sound made to eat.

A mind burned then numb,

I overflow, then deplete.

I cannot stay, nor come,

nor stand, nor take my seat,

without feeling the thrum;

it is static, it is heat.

The world is a strum

of the discord and the sweet

through which I’ve swum

since life and I did meet.

No happy medium.

No win today, but no defeat.

That's the monster of the hum

that rattles beneath my feet.