(words words words. Sorry it's not happier for the holidays and such...)
They act as though
my nonplussed speech slakes enthusiasm,
but truly my pontifications remain adiaphorous,
while their manner is a stinging fracas.
I recoil from the pain and
attempt to elucidate something – anything – else
besides my need for relief from the sharpness.
Sudden jokes and a constant whirl of whinge –
judging, leering, prying;
a dull effervescence in which I do not take part.
Shut my eyes, the tinny nebula presses in,
I am suffocating – haunted by yesterdays.