With every flick of light
I grow dimmer and dimmer.
Memory tarnished with burn holes
of a grown sinner and I’m scared.

Seeing spots of expired clarity,
I’ll keep numbness at my fingertips.
Insomniacs get more sleep,
so I skip every therapy trip.

Cope with no hope of recovery,
but scarf the midnight stabilizers.
Better days will never stay
when you’re a self loathing sympathizer.