Consecutive: Still More

Once again awakened
By the vibrations
And reverberations of
The early morning table saw.

Options tried:
Declaring the unpleasant, ‘unpleasant,’
Loving-kindness practice,
Counting breaths and mindfulness of breathing,

Not sure what good it did
But I’m still here,
At least (or is that the bad news?),
When I’m here, that is,

Which I find difficult,
With two hours less sleep
Each and every day
This disturbance persists.

How much longer?
The man speaks
Some language
Unknown to my ears,

How appropriate
For one who keeps
Offending them
With his infernal machinery;

And so,
Onward I go
For how long
I do not know.

Is it possible
To get used to this?
Am I forging new limits here,
Or simply mapping out the borders?