Tired mind, tired body.
Chaotic desk, chaotic kitchen.
As sleep escapes the eyes,
but not the mind,
dripping ink half conscious,
stalling.
Staying away from the dreams
which bring tomorrow's
cold reality.
Sickness pushing into the mind,
into the body,
with a dusty desk and
haphazard room in the dark.
We go up, we go down,
never to settle
as does the dust
upon our bones.
Misplaced my peace
(of mind)
at my alter of confidence,
and, once again,
exposed my insecurities.