I hate when my world goes flat,

When silence fills the empty space,

When boredom becomes heavy.

It’s not so much the boredom,

Rather the room it leaves for my otherness to creep.

It makes it hard to be thankful,

Boredom being a luxury.

It shadows what would be a peaceful mind;

It fills me with sharp unease.

I like my life bold and brisk,

Something always flashing in front of me.

My otherness doesn’t like it when I’m busy;

It thrives in the quiet, so I keep my mind loud.