I'm not giving up.
I just don't give a fuck.
Tired of doing
Tired of trying
In my bed
Thinking of what's not ahead
The world
It burns through the night
I sip coffee
Through burning light
I'm not giving up.
I just don't give a fuck.
Morning lethargy
Hopeless, Hapless breakfast
With a side of whiskey
Staring at the mirror
Till it breaks
Chasing shadows during day
I'm not giving up.
I just don't give a fuck.
Buried neath a fort of pillows
In hopes that sleep will take my way
Peering through dusty windows
In hopes of something new
At least then I would feel entertained
At least when this ends it would
Feel as if I didn't miss anything
I'm not giving up.
I just don't give a fuck.
I talk to myself
To keep company
To hide insanity slipping
Through the cracks
At least when all this ends
It feels as if it didn't happen
Blurring.
Everything seeming distant.
Unspooling thread by thread.
Unspooling, compelled to believe.
In reality.
I lied.
YOU ARE READING
Labyrinth
PoetryPoems I made during quarantine. A poem compilation about eating, sleeping and other things. I don't know what I have created. Read at your own risk.
