I think Vincent Van Gogh sliced off his ear to drown out the noise.
Life is so **** loud all the time with its crashing and banging
And sounds of screeching halts in action.
Keyboard clicks and the voices of Charlie Browns teachers.
I feel lost in this soundscape and not in a good way.
Tires and church bells the sounds of the drooling mob drive me mad.
I can't hear myself think anymore,
My soliloquy swallowed by the utterances of curses and cries of crows.
If the world would silence itself for just a moment,
I could sigh in relief.

The sun has shined today for the first time in weeks.
The bird song today doesn't seem to lull me to sleep.
The grass is starting to pucker it's lips
and the trees are stretching their limbs.
Flowers open to breathe fresh air,
The scent of spring is everywhere.
I feel renewed by this springtime hues,
Out with you, old wintertime blues.

The moonlit hours haunt young people.
The ivory glow of our sentient satellite
Encases the adolescent mind
with visions both imaginative and lavish in their nature.

The scent of evening primrose inspiring the poet,
Casablanca lily's spill their essence onto the artists canvas.
Stargazers make eye contact with their idols.

We are the bright lights that poke holes through the dark.

The sun calls to me in a sultry voice.
The horizon inviting me sweetly to explore it's territory.
There's gypsy blood boiling inside my veins
And I hear a message on the wind
That cannot go unanswered.

The world would be a perfect place,
if it weren't a place where one needs
nearly boundless energy to succeed.

Trapped in flesh and bone,
Encased in anxiety and insomnia.
God help me.

When you're an insomniac,
You keep track of time by moons instead of numbers.