Disconnected

Restless
Prodded by heaps of
Dreadful snoring
And mind deafening nothing.
Defective machinery
Teases the very boredom out of me
Rendering the largest of yawns
Useless.
Battlefields rage somewhere,
Elsewhere,
But here their voice is silenced,
Replaced by colorful animals
And the smell of ashes lain passively over glass.
Alone,
Truly, utterly alone,
With a mind bearing the phrases of millions;
So much to choose from yet nothing’s on.
Excitement coming in short, caffeinated jerks,
Breaking through a night induced haze
Of null.
Repetitive,
Searching for originality in the depths of the overused
And consulting the Tarot cards of unconscious blabbering.
Seeking sophistication through mundane visions,
Vast treasures of insignificance,
To fill an empty page,
This awful whiteness that goes on and on,
Way too bright.
They say that in the dark shiny toys gleam brighter.
Gone again,
Toying with the fabric of my nerves
Giggling idly in a bright yellow glow
Crossed by the mark of the lack.
It knows when best to strike.
Memories
Surfacing where they do not belong,
A haphazard medley of their dreadful songs,
Taking a toll on now yearned for formality,
Laying pavements of regret in an otherwise blissful neutrality,
Cutting short to the once demanded simplicity:
It hurts for nothing.
A request for pain as opposed to the latter;
It’s just too easy.
And it keeps getting better,
Creepiness taking ahold of an illusion of bunny rabbits;
One of them might just own a large pocket watch.
But through it all,
An urge to re-read,
Reevaluate the careful display of priceless porcelain words
That will soon be thrown away,
Hoping that it won’t,
But why not.
All I wanted was to kill time.