This vessel has a name
I hear it all the time
I?
I hear it all the time?
Who?
I'll let the thought pass
wait
where did the thought come from?
Thoughts?
Whose are they? Oh yeah..
mine... mine...mine?

At night
this body falls to a thin mattress
on this wooden floor
a lone cornered lamp
set to the tone of gloom

this vulnerable mind
retracts with a cringe
as the pattern retires
to fuzzy static

The filth it crawls
from my brain to the walls
a slow burning
ill tempered
panic.

and as I lay in bed
partnered with this troubled head
confusion is my lover
and cuddles in close

just what am I?
Just what is this?
what mask will I wear
when the sun wakes me?