Longing For A Long Sleep

To quieten an inner critic.

Can one

Commit verbal suicide

Through a poem

Or two?

A thought

Which spins around

Inside the hollow case

I call

A head.

Feeling myself

Slipping away

Ever so slightly

From this reality.

As everything blurs

Into one huge collage

Before my eyes.

Just wanting it

To stop

For once.

Trying to regain

What I never had

In the first place.

Silence.

To my inner critic

Who never shuts up

Except for

Sleep.

Thus

My unusual question

To you.