I am standing in the stomach of a tornado.

It is dark—lifeless—confusing at times.

It is loud—so loud that my ideas merge

Into a whirlpool of rapid drum beats.

It reverberates through my heart.

There doesn't seem to be a chance

Of things slowing down—unless I can

Cherry pick what's important—linking

Them in a chain I can use to pull

Myself out of the acidic world that

Seems too fast and far too loud.