The Cost of the Setlist

The speakers died an hour ago

but my brain won't let the music go.

It’s not a song, but a steady thin

needle of sound beneath my skin.

Like a tea kettle whistling in a room down the hall,

it’s a steady white pressure against every wall.

I paid forty bucks to lose the quiet I had,

now the air is just buzzing and I’m starting to get mad.