I am standing in the stomach of a tornado.
It is dark—lifeless—confusing at times.
It is loud—so loud that my ideas merge
Into a whirlpool of rapid drum beats.
It reverberates through my heart.
There doesn't seem to be a chance
Of things slowing down—unless I can
Cherry pick what's important—linking
Them in a chain I can use to pull
Myself out of the acidic world that
Seems too fast and far too loud.