Anxiety Of A Recluse

tick-tick-tock
this clock doesn't tick right
the rhythm is messed up
as so is my mind
as so is your life
as so is our existence
do the same old ceilings push you to boredom?
do the same four walls frustrate you of plainness?
now tell yourself, what are you going to do about this?
I know what is whizzing in your mind
yes, paint the walls with blood
decorate your life with blood-red and pitch-black
the color of passion,
and darkness
and death
does the repetition of your routines make you implode of anger?
and death seems like a more interesting idea?

thud-thud-thud
your heart doesn't beat right
the rhythm is messed up
as so is your emotions
as so is my control
as so is our souls
yes, this is too much to bear
these walls encage one in anxiety and oblivion
all the same in its plainness
Yes, my mind is whizzing right now
to paint the walls with blood
to decorate my life with with blood-red and pitch-black
my thoughts of colors,
and life,
and the afterlife
The repetition of these routines are worse than hell
and death seems more interesting than my current state

creak-creak-creak
this isn't right
what sound is that?
the sound of floorboards
the sound of footsteps
the sound of humans
this might be interesting
ending this life of anxiety and oblivion
and reclusion from the world
my heart is pounding right now
this might not be a friend
it might be a monster with canines and claws
it might kill me,
or torture me,
or make my reclusion worse
the fears that come creeping are worse than my state
and reclusion seems more interesting than what comes ahead.