Turn Them Shits Up

Volume displaces things. 
So, I turn up the music and close my eyes. 
Shift this cardboard and conundrums maze inside. 
Twist, shout, and shake about, 
but in that nonchalant way 
which feels like progress and not destruction
--another distraction--a fresh infraction--a further retraction--redletter redaction--of life and self, 
until all that's left is what lies between here 
and the nearest way out.