You,
You and your deafening loudness.
You have always found a way to seep into my sunshine.
To add gloom and envy to joy.
You are a thief of time.
Constantly pickpocketing any grain of gladness I have left.
I have tried breathing and silence and yoga and embracing you.
I have come to believe that you will always occupy a corner of me.
But I cannot make peace with the thought of your full-time residence.
I despise the idea that I am married to misery.
And yet here I am,
writing of you again.