In the Lake (Pt.2)

Plagued with nightmares, my midnight is a mixture

of farce and inhalations. In the day

I drag

my heels towards oblivion.

I stare

down at the water

wondering

what it might be like

If I exhaled and jumped in.

Like Virginia Woolf, with rocks weighing my pockets

down

down.

Perhaps I wouldn't feel like this.

Maybe I wouldn't have nightmares about

running away from a doll's house,

my head in my hands

in the middle of the night...

Puncturing notions in my head,

Needles...

And I scream at the daylight

my mouth closed from all.

God has forsaken me

in a dystopian black hole

energy thieves all around.

Hang me on the altar of modernism because maybe,

just

maybe

life doesn't matter like it used to...