My eyes are bloodshot,
Im drunk with knowledge,
Stumbling home in the darkness of morning,
Dramamine floating on through my ears,
senses dulled
my worn feet drag me toward my home.

Beyond comprehension
Beyond any sort of caring
High on apathy, I'm jaded beyond myself.
Accomplishments only open doors to criticism
to further my cynicism.
My sight is dry from ebony text on manila pages,
and LED lights.

I trudge in the quiet of the small town night,
no one was a awake and light was foreign
the only sight allowed was held hostage by the sickly
orange streetlights that depressed me more than
the situation itself.

Home.
Bathroom.
Bed.
Rest.