Sleep Is Futile

What’s the
point in
going to bed

With all
this shit
inside my head

It’s not
like I’ll be
allowed to rest

With this
sickness deep
inside my chest

A Long Forty Eight Hours

If you stare
at the same four walls
for long enough,
a fifth can start
to appear.

Perhaps it’s then
you’re supposed to
realise that
the end is near.

If you stare
at the same four walls
for long enough,
your mind can
start to bend.

Perhaps it’s then
you’re supposed to
know it’s the
beginning of the end.

Careless

Waking up to find that,
once again,
I’ve lost my mind
at some point
during the night…

No Air

It’s too hot to think
as I sit here on the brink
of yet another nervous breakdown…

Wednesday 11am (Pt 2)

So I managed,
in the end,
to get out of bed

And it’s been a
shitty day so far,
just as I said

So I was right,
I should never
have tried

For I’ll never
escape this
pain inside

Wednesday 2.30am (Pt 1)

I can’t even
bear the thought
of what’s to
come tomorrow

No doubt
it’ll just
be more misery
and sorrow

Perhaps I’d
be better
off staying
in bed

Then I might
just escape
these thoughts
in my head

Five A Day

An
apple
a day
may
keep
the
doctor
away.

But
it’s a
pill
at night
that makes
me feel
alright.

Mornings

Mornings are the worst.

Trying to muster the energy to get up, get dressed and leave the house.

Trying to summon the confidence to get through yet another day without you.

To be honest, I’d rather not bother.

But I suppose I do have bills to pay.

And I do have to feed the cat.

2am

I am broken
I am hurt
Words unspoken
Emotion curt

I am sad
I am wrong
Mind mad
Tears throng

I am tired
I am lonely
Memories mired
Despair only

I am weak
I am frail
Burning cheek
Limbs fail

I am down
I am done
Brows frown
Love gone

Up ↑