I feel like my bones aren’t mine
and my words aren’t mine,
I feel as though what I say and do are not what I am doing.
I feel like the world isn’t the world, but it is hell,
and that heaven doesn’t exist, it was created to give a false hope.
The eggbox ceiling listens to my silent thoughts,
As the lull of conversation makes me close my eyes,
& sleep the sleep of the