AN ANXIOUS MIND

Does the extremity of your mundane thoughts drive you wild enough to imagine yourself drowning in the black ocean of infinity with an electricity bill clutched tightly to your hands?
How often do you find yourself struggling to catch a breath amid writing the same old letter of apology to your dead self?
Is there a day when you don’t carry the carcass of broken promises on your wounded back to the temple of oblivion?
Do you find yourself shying away from the verbal gymnastics, that people have become so good at, or do you crave lyrical intimacy and improbable concoctions?
How heavy does your heart feel when you see bloodshot eyes scrutinizing your every move as you walk your delirious self into the forbidden kingdom of ignorance?
Is it always that lonely when you stumble your way into your dingy apartment, or are you welcomed by the misanthropic god with open arms and cheap Rum?
How do you so easily sing to the birds and talk to the poltergeist that lives in your shabby attic, why can’t you make a real friend?
Are you so devoid of honest emotions that the mere idea of human connection brings you to your knees?
Why do you have to listen to the hostile voices in your head? You know, they mean no well.
Does it not bother you how your subservience has cost you, your freedom to marry your authentic thoughts into an opinion?
It’s funny how you have numerous questions but not a single answerable soul. Hundreds of books stacked on your shelf but not one friend to call.
It’s bittersweet but true.
It’s Friday night, cold dinner, a due electricity bill and you.

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