The confines...

My thoughts meander over

Turning on themselves

Multiplying my anxiety

And tearing at my soul.

My room has four walls and a door

From which I can't seem to escape

Not on holidays

Not on vacations.

No matter where I go

Or what I do for distraction's sake

Of some relief, of some hope

That things will change

Even if it is just a lie.

All there is, is that low mundane humming

That solitary low note

Which consistently screams,

"You're stuck, get out, this is not living!"

On those times

Where I do make up my mind

To break away

To hear a different sound

Leaving everything behind

Fatigue overcomes me

I stare off at the ceiling fan

Watching at blades spin aimlessly;

Attempting to escape their eternal path;

Realizing they never will

Because there is always someone there

To switch them off!