If I need to explain, you wouldn't understand

VOICES
The voices came again today.
While I was shoveling snow.
Afterward I sat for a while
With a whisky and a friend.
Boots puddling on the carpet
And both admiring the fire.
He left to go home
I stayed with a beat in my head.
The voices.

I checked, but they will not leave.
Two whiskeys? Not enough.
Too much blood effort?
No.
The C.D. residue?
Wrong beat.
It’s the voices

The house is talking;
The crackle of the fire we built
To help out the heat pump;
The T.V. upstairs so she ignores
The fools below
But now he’s left
And I’ve checked those sounds
And I still have the voices.

No words.
No real tune or rhythm.
An almost waltz
With a possible march
But a definite need to be heard.
But I checked the possibles
Scientifically assumed
That house sounds
Or retina retention
Or aural echo

But still…voices.