Good Headspaces

I didn’t really get to sleep last night,

for it was my mind putting up a brutal fight

while my body was begging for the rest it yearns,

it made me cry so hard my stomach turned.

But it’s not something I have to truly ponder,

how I leave the sleep my body craves to squander;

it’s the chance to prevent the coming of the morrow

and the experience of one more piercing sorrow.

To avoid another damning daylight dejection

or countless raving rampant rejections;

that further deadly drifting without direction,

or facing my own blue and bleary reflection.

If all I can do is cut another piece of wood,

I just might have to don the hanged man’s hood;

why even regard these letters on the screen,

when I can’t even remember what they mean?

Even my memory is beginning to falter,

every good image is falling from its altar;

just like every one of my dreams,

I can feel myself ripping at the seams.

How can I make my heart thrum,

when I can’t find flavor in the smallest crumb,

knowing there are no good times to come,

and all I can see in the mirror is scum?

As the world around me is becoming duller,

and all these friendly faces have lost their color,

why amble on when there is no reward,

while life treats me like a dotted dartboard?

All I can do is stare into the darkness,

vast and alluring in its starkness,

and let the anger burn and smolder,

because I cannot be my own shoulder.