the screen empty lids behind my fatigued seeing eyes
sore from the blue fluorescence, trying to fill a void
desire to push myself to be functionally aware about my mortal coil
my sweet grief-stricken circumstance that is life
movement is opioid for the limp limbs of existence, trying oh so hard
here I lay
empty as an cracked eggshell
thrown in a filthy metal drum
where is my purposefulness
my proper shot at this path
the lead heavy laden head of my spiral
ties me down to the faux softness
begging for some warmth
Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 8:44 PM UTC
the screen empty lids behind my fatigued seeing eyes
sore from the blue fluorescence, trying to fill a void
desire to push myself to be functionally aware about my mortal coil
my sweet grief-stricken circumstance that is life
movement is opioid for the limp limbs of existence, trying oh so hard
here I lay
empty as an cracked eggshell
thrown in a filthy metal drum
where is my purposefulness
my proper shot at this path
the lead heavy laden head of my spiral
ties me down to the faux softness
begging for some warmth
Request permission to use this poem