I sit at my desk
The window’s open,
Or it's shut. I don't remember
But I feel cold
My hands wrapped around a pole at a skating rink,
trying to keep myself from slipping
On the cool, smooth surface.

I am walking on the freshly fallen snow,
I am thinking

I stare out the window,
Partially obscured by dark curtains.
They are caught on my plants;
Never fully closed,
Never open wide.
This is what makes me think
The inbetweeness that is what makes

nothing good or bad,
But I used to think there was.
I twisted the sheets of my perception until
The bed was unmakable and I gave up the fight
I sunk into the mattress
And closed my eyes

But this monotony is getting old;
A cut spoiling behind a worn bandaid.
I hated myself for caring
But I now I don’t.
That’s the point. I don’t care about anything anymore
I am trying to hold on to the things that once mattered
But the merry-go round is only going faster
Soon enough I’ll have to get off.

I am looking out the window
Because I can’t focus on anything anymore
I let my eyes glaze over
Because it's easy
Painless.
They don’t focus on anything.
Everything is white, white, white