Maybe my own inadequacy is to blame
For the fact that I can't get out of bed most days
My main motivators are hunger pains and stomach aches.
Somedays I feel like I'm at the pivotal point
Where a tiny place in space becomes a black hole
With only one purpose; to devour all that passes by.
I hope this hopelessness passes like strangers on the street.
I feel like it's been too long to say that though.
Maybe once my room is clean,
I get some fresh air
And
I stop smoking, this fog around me will dissipate into its next life.  
Maybe.