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