Swiftly bursting into being,
a flurry of interruptions
pours white noise
across the sad stale air.
Perhaps this is an invitation
to care about something again,
but I don’t know.
Seems just a bit too convenient.
The sound scrolls
through both ears with ease
and leaves a milky residue,
a little something
for the mind to savor
after ennui does its number,
pushing the body toward
deep, dumb slumber
and pulling sensation
out of focus.

-r. miller

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