Hubbub.
Who’s listening?
Chatter, natter, prattle
Prat.
Screens in our face, over our eyes
in our minds.
Siding with popular opinion,
shying away from engaging that hungry engine, the brain.
Work them, encourage them
steam-powered as they may be.
Quiet, I crave.
No, they sing.
We need the noise, need the buzz,
need the bright lights and sweat and alcohol
and neon screens
to feel normal.
Normal?
What is normal
but a falsity of who you are
trying to resemble
the falsehood of others.
Hubbub.
Who’s listening?
Chatter, natter, prattle
Prat.
Quiet, I crave.
Independent thinking, I urge.
Eccecentric. Weird. Outcast, they sing.
Treeshallow Musings 