The mind is more awake, and trembling than anything else,

leaving one to be anything but restful.

It brings deep nights of consciousness,

while precious minutes pass by too swiftly.

The mind is a void, although silence speaks utterly loudly.

It screams.

It hollers in a room that only echoes so far.

It's an enclosure, an aviary in which you are the feathered friend,

keeping the bars company.

It's an inferno, in which erupts chaotically,

demolishing all good in it's path.

It's a vessel, awaiting a titanic tragedy,

to be dismantled, and submerged into it's own nemesis it willingly walks upon.

It screams, and it burns, and it drowns all in its trail.

Leaving no trace but the agonising silence,

all sound devoured by a faultless beast.

This

is

how

I

feel.