I let the darkness
seep into my skin
as if it would stop
my bones from rattling.
Babbling sirens pierce my ears
forgetting what the morning brings,
I hear nothing but the psychoanalysis
of my own lips breathing out nonsense.
Expectations dangle from the ceiling
blocking out all the light from the moon
enlisting its own doom
into my growing pores.
They reach for sadness like sunlight
a direct way to feel again,
despite my echoing cries
they continue to try and be something.
My body aches of its own type of arthritis,
derived from the weight of surviving,
years of looking for a way out
wore on my joints like sandpaper.
So I erode,
tiny flecks of golden dust
fall to the floor as I walk,
glowing in the hue of dusk reclining
itself into my chest.
I am left with the dread of failure
and regrets I know best
waiting for the dawn to support me,
but the darkness lasts for days.
I wait
and I wait,
and eventually the sun will rise
and I will be okay.