The air around me blows
like static --
water rushing
on a porcelain countertop
full of both memories
and feelings.
weeping roses cover
my nostalgia for better times
but the noises!
oh the noises!
***** at my brain and force
me into staring at my own hands.
Quite small, they look
in comparison with what I believe them to be.
Humming  and whirring strike
the darkness around me.
I can't believe this used to be home.