After, in a falsely coloured room, I reflect: Lost deep, drowning in thought
Though aren't I eternally damned to this disease, from which "feeble minds flee."
Over analysing, pointless computing, my mind is ferocious. Muzzle me.
Childish games one plays with themselves to keep teetering minds sane.
Negative feedback loop started by you, now adrenaline released,
Questioning. The screens buffer turns circle, familiar voices.
My dainty hands waver, one slip then the plate will crash, a life littered with choices,
How can a choose when this danger tickles my wrist?
I'm harshly inquisitive, critical of my worth to the desolate horizon
Right now, I ponder the length of my work, stress attacks.
Deeper. Darker. Then back to a fresh slate, then the plate drops down.
It cracks and breaks.
