Slavery.

A slave to “most” not all bad things

Sleepless nights

Burdens of real life

Cloak any light

Fighting its way through different parts of my dreams

Snooze less alarm clocks refusing to be quieted

Like the nameless voices in my head…

Am I crazy?

No. Eccentric.

Electric.

Terrifyingly unpredictable

In a world filled with zombies

Who all look, sound, dress the same

Down to the threads on their pimply backs.

A victim of hope,

but too much of it means a greater chance of disappointment.

I promise, I’m not a wet blanket!