A poem that makes no sense

Some nights I go to bed to the sound of some excessively loud engine revving.

Other nights, it’s an eerie silence.

On some nights the radiator is choking,

On yet others, someone is blending a smoothie at midnight.

The world is on fire and nobody cares.

I mean we care, I guess? You more than I.

It’s freezing out and I am yet to take the trash out (or the laundry).

Is work meant to be perennially hectic this week but always quieter next week?

Shit I’m alone again. Where’s my company?

I still can’t sing or dance (not well). Can you?

So if everything sucks, what song was that cuckoo still humming this morning?!

Poetry Month 2025, Day 3

Dudurudh