Ticking Noise

In stark contrast,
to my
dullness
dullness
dull-dull-dull-ness,

I have found myself
drowning again,
under stacks and stacks
of things I no longer
seem
to beat for.

My days are rhythmic
and sloppy
like a cymbal falling
on
a
snare that rolls
into a foam pit
where gymnasts
rest their
souls.

I have not
made
time
to sit
with
You
in awhile.