Constant presence

A notification,

a green circle

longing to be read,

dread the thought

of what's been said. 

Or what hasn't,

isn't that the truth? 

Pen digs into the page,

blue ink seeping deep 

into the tributaries,

a river of words, none neccessary.

Portraying actions that replay

a broken tape

no way to stop the loop,

loop, loop, loop, loop, loop, loop, loop, loop,

loop, unravelling, 

it never quite sounds

the same again,

what was the song you played? 

The tune has become a backdrop,

the voice like tinittus,

is this it?

Is this us? 

You seem so large there, 

I remember the recurring nightmare

but not the reality,

in reality, what's worse?

The curse of not knowing. Knowing

the song,

hating the verse,

and the chorus never comes. 

re-runs of the same episodes, subtitles

in a language I don't know.

Short comings exposed,

I never learnt your mother tongue.

It's sung like the dawn chorus 

but the sun doesn't rise.