I’m broken… and reassemblance yields only temporary benefits.
One day I’m only a few pieces, others more.
I’m a contradicting fairy tale and all the kings horses and all the kings men will not be able to put me back together again.
I’m stuck in the viscous circle of masking my fatigue with coffee, only to miss a dose and fall asleep, go ahead, try to stop me.
Sleep brings more drowsiness and reflection more depression, f*** the forward, every step pushes me back.
Renewal is ideal, another try could lead me to feel.
Too bad this utopian state of thinking keeps plunging me deeper.
From some stuff there is no escape so should I stop the struggle and just, embrace?
If I consider myself crazy, I can’t be, for crazy people don’t know they are, which leaves open the possibility for a more severe illness.
A possibility that is comforting and unsettling, breaking down reality, and again,
reassemblance yields only temporary benefits.