Misery Never Sleeps

this corner is getting cozy,

holds the dark like liquid

and I'm breathing with gills,

but the air tastes like mercury,

spilling secrets in the cylinder

and rising just before

another part of my is seared.

I wait for misery to fall

asleep at his post, but

I make more mistakes than him,

so I'm trying real hard to boil

in the currents, maybe vapors

can escape the apathetic ceiling

of daytime fear and forced hallucinations.

but the sunlight is cased in glass

and I keep trying to fly through

like a moth, tapping until my skull bleeds.

the cold damp corner never

used trickery to break me

and that fucker never turns his back

so I can run towards the door.