light years

each minute feels like a light year.

each hour is a nightmare.

the tick tock hands are my heartbeat

inside of this hate machine.

satan himself could not scare me.

eyes so wide they could burn holes

right through this television.

counting down until witching hour

when my body and mind with be most disconnected.

roseanne reruns and blaring infomercials

again and again

add nausea.

climbing up the vertical face of a boulder

and sliding back down to safety.

its all downhill from here.

5 6 7 8

i am breakfast

rise and shine

and move into the empty shell

of another day.