I feel so confused and used up.
Emotionally, and physically.
Like a towel laying in front of a shower or tub.
It's obviously soaked from the wet feet stepping on it before;
But it still lays there-
As if it's doing any justice.
Just a token,
An ornament-
Decorating the mind to trick you into thinking it's doing it's purpose.

I feel as if I'm making myself believe that I'm doing something good for myself, when really I'm just lying in my own demise. The days do nothing but reiterate.. my body soaks up the same fragments of life.
Everything's like clockwork when all I want is to break that clock and regain my internal being.

Food for thought, or thought for food?
Either way I'm hungry, but I can't seem to eat.

                                        Alysia Marie 2015 ©