no whe re to look

Obsession overwhelms my being as I glare into the brightness of the screen.

The room is dark.

The air is warm.

My eyes itch with salinity, pouring out my heart and soul in trickling madness.

Unable to suffer the illness no longer, I force my face away.

There is nowhere to look.

Only the misshapen inflections of noir melt my retinas.

They shift and squirm, never quite taking shape.

What lay beyond there before no longer was.

My presence disappears into my mattress,

my heart sinking in the falls of miasma.