Static, whether in front my eyelids or on a box screen tv

It’s drowning

To never conclude the ongoing thought within my head

‘Is this real?’

Blood, underneath my skin and yet closer to my hands than I have yet to comprehend

It’s pouring

Dripping down my skin and only to answer one thing

‘I am here’

Time, stopping and starting as if someone familiar holds a remote

It’s tiring

Known for not trying, when not able to do is frustrating

‘I don’t remember’

What can only be said in rhymes, makes up for what is said unspoken

Dreams fade quickly into another dream yet one may be in a waking state. 

I will never know

My eyes open yet the feeling has a chokehold on my mind

‘Did that really happen?’

Pills, though I have yet a collection; on the contrary I have yet a resolution

It hurts

To know that my mirror may always stay defective

‘Who is this?’

Nothing feels right anymore

The static pulls me in for the second time this night

Will I wake up again?

Why?