all night i spit poetry and poison at the ceiling, all day i long for night

i know not
if the sky ever
did brighten
nor did i see
it ever darken
as i stared up
into the ceiling
for twelve hours
i just know that
the alarm rang
the coffee fell
tastelessly over
my maggoty lip
across the tongue
only capable of lies
to settle on
the pit of vipers
angrily hissing
in my stomach

i stumbled out
expecting to see
the sun carving
away the shadows
only to sit in
sorrowful dismay
wondering if any
time had truly
passed at all
the birds mockingly
sing of new days
while i wonder if
it isn’t one constant
loop of misery
that starts again
when my eyes
stop watching the sky
the only point of
separation seems
to be found within
my freshest bouts
of pathetic verse.

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