My eyes fell shut with swirls and dots dancing behind them disrupting the pitch black. I wonder when the light will come back.
When my eye lids creak open, to see the same room before me, the evidence in my surroundings; my minutes into hours into weeks into months of weakness, failures, and misery. Letting mold grow out of a bowl to not be so alone in here. I wonder when the light will come back.
Daylight is hours away but even when the suns bright rays hit my face offering sweet human necessities, it gets rejected. My skin repels any chance at a chemical balance in my brain. It burns me instead.
Squinting; creasing my skin over and over and over, embedding deep pathways on the surface, always burrowing deeper in, always leaving a trace of the unawareness every action you make has an impact. I wonder when the light will come back.
Ignorance is bliss.
You cant know what you're missing, when even in the deepest trenches and highest peaks of your hopes and dreams and guilt, you know you'll choose this.
The blinds shut, curtains drawn, light bulbs burnt out and busted, to try to blind what you can always see. Surround yourself with darkness to hide the darkness in you. I wonder when the light will come back.
It's safe here. The bed made with filth and lies and every nightmare and the impression cutting into your mattress of your body there day and night.
I wonder when the light will come back.
