Psyche rolls like the dying tips of waves
under under
subsumed into the larger sea of indistinguishable nothings
the blind and muddy ether of sickened, ugly thought

Many dreams of late, many painted extraordinary dreams
pulling thoughts toward deadened pasts
the subconscious creaks, laughing boldly- angrily,
at residues of feeling-the kind only left in the brains of
weak people

Again, the light creeps in between blinds
beckoning the day
long, plank-teeth echoing
that there is a happy planet outside
a happy, lively planet

The walls of the mind are thick with coagulated stagnation
heavy and isolated, are the repressed desires
heavy and isolated,

Gnawing at the air
bold movement, effort
shaking as if shackled
arguing with no-one

Ah, just once, what she would give,
to be rid of this inner mischief
just once
what she would give,
to sleep