Always there,
it forces you to listen.
Leaping from topic to topic,
the incessant babble
can be
tiring,
amusing,
maddening,
demanding.
In search of sleep,
counting backwards
from one hundred,
you are interrupted
at ninety-six,
and try,
fry,
fly,
cry,
to quiet the fiend.
Like a multilayered hard drive
with a read head
for each layer,
it assails,
regales,
derails,
wails,
commanding your complete attention.
Meditating to achieve silence,
the sound of the universe,
song of the stars,
background static
from the big bang,
crazed atoms
bombarding the inner ear,
prevents you
from being who you think you are,
by forcing you
to be a part of the frenzied clamour
from which there is no escape,
only tired acceptance.
