Summer of Poetry: Twitch

The house is never truly

still.

There is an almost endless punctuation of

shrill beeps

of mechanisms I've long

resented,

shoving aside peace and mind with their

demands for attention. A

disrespect for my

time that mirrors

their insensitivity

toward the restlessness

and frustration

their interruptions leave in their wake.

I just need time enough to

finish

one incomplete thought...

Just

one

train of thought

that isn't hijacked by a

notification.