a struggling of noises

it's been
a brutal summer.

nothing but
a dagger
slitting into
tiny pieces
of my brain,
everytime
i think,
on any given
hour
of the evening.

on most nights,
i'd just sit outside
on the patio,
drinking,
until
i forgot
what i was trying to
remember.

all that you can hear
up here,
is a space filled
with crickets.

at first,
you want to kill them,

then,
after a while,
you begin to understand
what
they are saying,
and you appreciate
the diversion
from the sounds
and echoes
that are
thrashing about
your insides.

and all it is,
is communication.

maybe they're right,

and maybe
i never thought
that one day
i'd be eavesdropping
on the conversations
of crickets,

but
it's too late,
and everything
always happens
like this.

it's already
september,
and i haven't
slept
in two months.

but
right now
i'm tired,
and all i want
is
to lie down.