My thoughts
Devolve into
Simple acts of
Survival.
Reactions
To an
Indigo dream.
Something happens
And there I go
Scream,
Silently into my
Pillow.
But it's just a reflex.
Emotions don't correlate
Because I feel nothing
As of late.
I engage in blasé
Soliloquies
About how this
Laissez-faire
Demeanor toward
A life I don't care  for
Can't be healthy,
But I never learnt French
So I'm not too concerned.
Memories of happiness
Are etched; burned
To the back of my skull,
But when I close my eyes
All I see
Is darkness.
My thoughts
Meaninglessly devolve
Into poems that
Bear no weight
On the severity of my problem.
I simply react
By writing them down
Anyway.