Anti-hypnomaniac
Posted on Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Colour me helpless with a tinge of addiction,
Sprinkled with hope accompanied by an entrée of suicide.
I find myself elbow deep in the goo of regret,
The more I move, the more I sink.
Strings of euphoria strum my every breath, but I'm sore inside out.
Every step is a knockout blow.
A hit to a deflated lung, I'm asphyxiated, blacking out.
Is this the freedom they gloated about?
More energy being used up trying to hold it in,
rather than acting it out.
Anti-hypomaniac, I see that it's me in the mirror,
But I stole Cheshire's smile and anxiety.
Your fingers run across my face but I feel nothing,
they're just like winds of nature passing by.
My knees aching with desire to run,
conjuring what's left of my deteriorating soul,
I'm still left with nothing.
I'm not misunderstood, nobody bothers a shot at it,
and I'm fine with that.
So just because it's still a mystery to your shallow eyes,
doesn't mean I'm not right.
If misery loves company,
Why do I find solitude in this deafening silence?
I'm miserable, miserably exhausted.
I'm not just tired, I'm just tired.
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