It buzzes in my head like a mosquito nagging and persistent if not loud these thoughts I thought I had shed yet come again dragging behind the same old baggage the remembrances of tragedy I do not wish to recall the buzz in my head as if carrying from someone other than myself, and as hard as a try n—stuffing palms against my head – I can’t make the buzzing cease, so, I endure them, remember the moments to which they allude, from another life time, when I was someone different from who I am now, or so I think, always there to remind me of how little I have really changed, this bussing, in my hears, this is howl in my head, not always there, note very day, but often, when I wake, when at that think line between sleep and consciousness, they roar back to life, lost later in the hubbub of the waking world’s racket, there later to return that moment when the real world relinquishes me back to my dreams.
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