There’s a pressure in my head,
that is making me feel sick.

Wwhat is this inside of me,
that I cannot control or name,
and that I cannot exorcise?

I’m running in a circle,
sprinting untily my heart pounds,
so hard it breaks my ribcage.

Where is the pressure building from?

What factors are adding up,
that are forcing me to rethink life,
and the complex events I am,
which I’ve come to call existence?

The light bounces off the ceiling,
castrated and smothered,
by a dusty glass and metal covering,
which represents my potential.

A bright light struggles to light my living room,
against the midnight darkness pouring through my windows,
too much light is bouncing off the worn-down brass fixture,
and I’m failing to live up to my potential too.

That sinking feeling drags me down,
as the night creeps closer to my precious mind,
I feel as though it brings more anxioety.