I am sleepless and tormented by the contrast and volume
of hopes against fears.
So many of them.
Jagged lines and shapes jousting and scraping my inner psyche
of rich and intense colour pixelated and grainy
as is the web of events causing such fears
In contrast with the soft, yet sinister hopes looming in the future’s unseen

My limbs are a nuisance.
The physicality of their forms bring discomfort
Caused by imperfection of placement.
Whether imperfect, or perfect a form
firing fallacies neurologically implies imperfection.

Ambiguity of the source aids continuation of the problem.
Tears and years passing by and these shapes may change
and might even rearrange the thoughts of fears
Though the shapes volume grows
and the lines scrape and stab with ferocity and frequency.