the texture of experience is so foreign
as a feeling of itself
even though the particulars are
when in my presence, soothing
but the sensing screens often get cluttered
the hum of next coming
is always in the background
I seem to be regularly victimized
as unsuspecting audience
the feel of being a bystander
is too impersonal to me
many times the retentive mind account
is too demanding
the need for logistics and understanding
weighs upon me
the reality-frame of it
is sometimes a burden to carry
often times there are outbreaks of opinions
and side-bark remarks coming to exchange
yes, I seem to succumb
to the in-my-face subject matter
and my enormity gives way
to the frame at hand
the time travel like this
is burdensome
although I do like to surrender
to the downpour of rain upon me
and the tongue-lashings
that come my way on a breezy day
but otherwise experience is
food for thought, crumbs of disclaimers,
and subsequent clean-ups of the mind
when I would rather have
the basking of a new moon night sky
and be overhearing of its silence
as its faraway
in somewhat muted dialogue . . .
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