I lay awake on top of my covers
because I can’t handle the sheet
skin. Through My head is screaming
the still almost as loud as my thinking, letting each
air of my room heart. noticeable paint flaw
silence My ceiling: accompany
ensues. Blank, my more
It’s silent, but I am still struggling boring, negligible. Yet frantic thoughts.
It’s to slip into deep unconsciousness. here I am, still staring, a decent compromise.