"7 to 9 hours of sleep"
You got me thinking in dreams
I'm still working on my mental health journey
I don't know where I'm going but there's a mountain range or an ocean in view
My life is vertical with vertigo and
I need a horizon
It makes me feel small
I like to make myself small and my problems smaller with me
But truth is my problems are too big for my body
They come bursting out in the form of suicidal ramblings or makeshift insomnia
To match my makeshift happiness
Fake it till you make it
I tell my brain to make and bake more dopamine or serotonin
Help me out
I'll take it artificially manufactured
It's the fentanyl of happiness
But there's something about the artificial flavors that is raw and real to myself
The fundip powder stuck to my fingers
I crave childhood and I don't know if it was taken from me
My sweet tooth remains
And I continue to crave