Shall we let them come over us?
Waves. Sound, shock, silence
To fill the voids we have built with our two hands.
Rooms filled with stubborn elephants. So we leave
via static-filled radios and sticky silence
By loudmouth chatter and operatic noise
The tv next door.
What is this called?
An escape? To be so caught up in rhythm of random. Entropy
We forget the smell, taste, feel, sight
Or shall we call it?
A revolution of circadia
A cacophonous symphony, like an out-of-pitch beauty
Growing. Growing. Crescendo, until all my other
Senses join.
Tingles, similar to the alarm clock that shakes to wake from slumber
And elephants elope, packin' trunks for the coast
Leaving rooms empty, space for the waves.
And I remain
In a revolution of circadia
Until
Diminuendo.
Subside, as tides do. Waves waning, waiting for times of necessity
So yes, I shall let them cover over me.
Will you?