In the stillness of the night,
darkness closes and becomes my cage.
Thoughts my enemy,
or is the responsibility of light?
The gravity pulls on the corners of my stomach.
Blanketing my soul.
Drown the sense of time fade.
It sickens me with its greed.
My hunger for a clear thought.
Trees of the day, so wicked and twisted tonight.
Tormenting my moments of weakness.
Something’s burning deep,
but fuels nothing good.
I am the same end of the magnet,
pushing away from everyone else.
My toes leaving prints in soil that no one notices.
© Deon Heemskerk