everything starts to make sense now

as fatigue takes its seat next to delusion

if i can't sleep, no one can

these hallways bang on pots and pans

time seems to have become aware

of my awareness

perhaps, it's her insecurities that make

her slow down while i'm watching in awe-inspired wonderment

layers of lapping ocean

papier-mache mask elapsing

insecurities, the shitty scenes

the dark and dirt and gritty shit

i am getting angry

with each invisible, wasted second

leaving on an indefinite vacation

in this black room

i see a red and two greens

and a yellow under the door

and an orange being nosey through the window

the ticking has grown to be quite a nuisance

begging the muscles in my arm

to introduce the bones in my hand

to the face of the clock

i'm drunk with this now

yet not a single drop has

touched my filthy mouth