All The 8’s

And so it begins

The incessant counting

The overthinking

The fear mounting

That impending doom

Will certainly strike

If I do not get

This pattern right

Quieten Down(er)

I’ll
take
anything
you’ve
got to
give

A drink;
a smoke,
a sedative

As the
voices
in my
head
these
days

Are
proving
far too
competitive