Where is it you go
When nothing that you see makes sense?

Perhaps inside,
To introspect:
To pull the tangled threads apart
And see the pattern, patterns
Once intended

Perhaps to just get lost
In entertainment,
Sports, or
Scrolling

Or maybe to be transported by
The unexplainable power of music,
The heightened community of theater, or
The multidimensional architecture of movies

Or maybe even
The other world of some video game,
Or book

And I do all these things, as well —

But often,
I go to where there are few sounds,
My mind whirling with unspokens

Thoughts
Needing extraction from
The intersection of what
Has been felt,
And what
Cannot be said

For

The story is the moral, and
Words

Have their own music