The creeps of chill down the spine,
As if a tarantula ran through my back,
With pain and struggle I threw myself –
Of my comfort.
The vision flickers – And
A headrush kicked in.
Looked around for cobwebs and
And the empty ceiling corners.
The sleep-deprived self reminded
The time along with the perk-wise:
Thoughts.
They are fighting depression,
A war Of anxiety.
The battle may seem afar,
But tied, in close proximity.
Stuttering a slimy walk to the hallway,
Seated with a lousy book,
The solitude might help a little,
And soon I shall be off the hook.
Not even the second page collapsed,
I heard the inner-me calling out,
One of them days I reckon,
How far do you want me to go?
And how would a sedated stem grow?
