Therapy Bits

there’s a hum in the walls
that no one else seems to hear—
a low, buzzing ache like the planet grinding its teeth
in its sleep

and I
am tired

not tired like
a nap and a coffee can fix—
tired like too many open tabs
in a browser that keeps freezing
while the cursor spins,
and spins,
and spins—

I saw a bird today
perched on a wire like a note in a silent song,
and I swear it looked at me like
you too, huh?

people move like
nothing’s wrong,
like the air doesn’t feel heavier
like the clocks aren’t lying
like we’re not all
just barely holding the seams of ourselves
together
with one last trembling breath

and somewhere, someone is laughing
too loud, too long—
a laugh that sounds like
a cry wearing a plastic smile

I want to press a button
somewhere hidden beneath the chaos—
a red one, maybe,
labeled emergency exit
or do over
or simply pause

I want to sit at the edge
of silence
where nothing demands me to be
anything
and just
breathe

just for a minute
before I step back in
before the spinning resumes
before the world
remembers
it forgot me

just
stop the world

I want to get off
for a little while.