My thoughts on the walls | poem

Evaporated thoughts
On a mouldy ceiling.
The walls absorb my tears,
Happy to be stealing
The secret to my glowing skin.

I think too much,
I think to myself,
So much it hurts,
Too much; it’s not enough.

When the night is dark,
My words leak
Through my teeth,
They flood the floor,
So I close the door.

I speak too much,
I say out loud,
So much it’s too loud
But it’s never loud enough.

The words bounce on the walls
And back inside my mind.
Duplicate thoughts;

How will I sort them out,
When there’s only one of me
And sometimes none at all?

What will I tell my landlord
About my thoughts on the walls?


Another poem written at work today. I’m sure it lacks something but I’m not in the correct head space for it anymore; funnily enough.

This is getting old: outbursts of creativity when I’m trapped at work, and once I get home I’m but the shell of a girl that I used to know well.

It never ceases to amaze me how a split second can change everything, and how the smallest of pebbles can instantly coat my mind in the thickest dark veil.

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