In my head

Does your ceiling get further away
when you lie there at night
failing to fall asleep, in the starlight
chasing after it with your eyes;
Trying to reach out
to that fleeting bout
of peace as it drifts by, paralyzed,
clutching at with only your eyes?

Does it bother you that you haven’t control?
Does it scare you that you’re getting lost?

Do your eyelids get heavy with thoughts
racing against time, in that darkness
when you struggle to make sense
of what you wish to have and
what you’re scared to lose
& do they barricade tears
wanting to let go
failing to too?

Does it bother you that you haven’t control?
Does it scare you that you’re getting lost?

There’s always this siren
going off in my head
night and day, drowning
those thoughts out outright
mocking me for my pathos,
for weeping at my incompetence,
something that’d be inheritance
from my father, birthing failures.

Demanding ‘does it bother you that you haven’t control?
Does it scare you that you’re getting lost?’

Do you feel the burden
of a thousand words laden
with an apology addressed
to yourself, signed in your hand,
written in your word and yet
so foreign you barely recognise
how sorry you are for being you
& how you truly & sincerely hate you.

Does it bother you that you haven’t control?
Does it scare you that you’re getting lost?

Did you ever want to feel
nothing for a moment,
nothing at all like you could
stop existing for a while?
No, it’s not a thought suicidal
but the urge to feel empty..
and weightless at heart;
so you’d answer whatever asks

‘Does it bother you that you haven’t control?
Does it scare you that you’re getting lost?’

 

Thought laden eyes
Thought laden eyes
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