More is Less

How you feel is not enough, You as this is less than function, Avert the feel, replace with stuff, Or suffer states, disjunction. Comparing scrambled eggs to buzzing locust, To the mumbled mind within you, Hocus pocus, lack of locus, There's too much to think or do. Is it magic, the spectacle, the prance of flicked rays? Distracting as you navigate your ways, Through this nothing filled by gaze. The TV sounds like lightbulbs burnt, The filament ablaze; fidelity. Tinnitus chimes, claiming weren't; External cause for remedy. I can feel the TV hum, the windows wake my earlobes, Aghast by glass, the lampposts shook, I'd rather nether regions probed. I sense that I can't sense a thing, Nothing lurks beneath my brain, Haunting me to always bring, The me who flees from fear and pain. Poisons for potions, Pills provide motions, A corpus of nervous commotions, Despite that, these without, I'm better about, But me: I continue to doubt.