Sensory Overload

There’s a cataclysm of chaos

Under the skin

Kept calm

As the palms of my hands 

Are shaking

Overthinking

Drinking in the environment

Seemingly silent

Though I’m battered

By a whirlwind

Of sensory violence

There are some sensations

Sex

Love

Flowers

Food

Much more pleasant to my mood

And yet
The small things

The petty things

Are like hailstones

Cold

Hard

Endless

Chipping cracks 

In window glass

Extending the duration

Of the shaking

And it’s taking

A long time

For the storm to pass