The heat of the sun
Is too much to feel.

The notes of my music
Is too much sound.

The stillness of my room
Is too lonely.

The sight of my possessions
Is too much information.

And the vibrations of my music
Are slowly forcing me to rock back and forth
As if in some eerie trance.

To feel anything is too much
And everything is making me shake uncontrollably.

I must look like someone who belongs in a white room
With padded walls
And a straight jacket.