As darkness drops,
my thoughts remain in static motion;
stitching a collection of scenarios,
swimming against moments of respite.
How do I stop?

Like clockwork,
I walk along the impulse of mistrust–
swaying with the tides of yesterday,
in abject deflection of reason and sense.
How do I stop?

Behind these walls,
I have drowned honesty and sincerity–
burying unsaid paragraphs under pretenses.
Evasion has been my retreat.
How do I stop?

Because

in the face of truth,
defiance has been my answer.

How do I stop?