The song remains the same

so tired
of the
nearly-ceaseless assault
on my senses

the low-frequency pain
churning|rattling|pummeling
my viscera

diesel engines of road construction equipment all through the night on the nearby highway, smashing concrete and asphalt
garbage trucks, their compactors,  their motorized arms to lift and dump, their grinding engines and screeching warning tones
low-flying aircraft rumbling jet engine hell right through me
passenger cars speeding through the neighborhood with stereo blasting but especially the bass, can’t forget the bass, if it doesn’t set off other car’s alarms it isn’t shaking enough
commuter trains, freight trains yanking on the electric whistle like a toddler with a brand new toy for twenty minutes at a time

all of these are physical sensation to me, physical pain
like a
slow-motion
non-stop
gut-punch
symphony
and I am so tired of the same old song

I need silence, stillness, solitude, safety.

I need…
HOME.

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