I'm terrified
of the ticking on the clock
my heart is being tugged
and arteries clogged with nonstop thoughts
saying im wasting my life away.
routine is a comfort
but is it disguised
and is actually a vice?
i lay in bed
with an image of my house
then my state
my country
the world
the universe
and feel rage pooling
in corners of my mind.
i am forced
to drag myself out of bed
see the sunrise
as something to resent
because i hate what it represents.
i want to wake up
with the regret i even fell asleep
because my life is that thrilling,
so in this vast universe
knowing i am of the least importance to it,
i want to make
my tiny meaningless life
meaningful to me
and look back on it
to see maps and roads of the world
in my veins