The Day Unsiezed, Unwanted

As long as the day continues to pass through the broken dam of time,
this numbness will do my life sweet nothings.

Four walls. My walls.
I refuse to die to my own mind, so I stay in darkness,
out of the anxiety of the light.

But I see the rays trying to break the curtains
and pull it back a little to see how the earth is doing on its own.

Every now and then I'm starved.
Other times I fiddle with the scale.

Lying down.
Resigned.
The ceiling never closes in like the horizon out in the social order of things.

If I fade into nothing, a missing existence doesn't fright itself.

But if I grow into something, oh the fear, the fear.

So you live for 90 odd years.
Maybe a piece of sensation will chip off with the day.
Then,
the emptiness will grow.
And the void of emotion carry me away.