Sense?

A cold chill in the air tonight.
But still, it causes me to pause.
Like an amplifier and a microphone
and the odd buzzing noise that they both emit
and the pulse quickens
thoughts race
and you hope you remember your lines
not like you haven't sung them a thousand times

And in the trees
the past
in the air
uncertainty
always, uncertainty
but trying to change it is like holding a burning match

And so, I'm left with everything
So much to be thankful for
and a fire-ant's sting
is repeated
like 10 years of thoughts running through your mind at once.