Furled
Furled. alone. purgatory. limbo?
Nighttime: a looping hellscape.
Daytime: fashionably late.
Shadows creeping, twitches uncontrolled.
Overstimulating silence compounding chaos.
The balance doesn't fit.
Questioning words: turning themselves upside down.
Glaring at the phone like it's the enemy.
How do I find a balance that fits?
Solace found unexpectedly in numbers –
they don't lie, can't deceive.
Honest confusion – no games – truth.
Venturing into the world: no longer needed.
Ignoring friends. Safer for them – and me.
It's the only way to find my balance.
Monstrous white pills to keep the monsters away.
Mist turns to fog and darkness – can't think.
Never finding balance – not really.
Furled and waiting for the pendulum to swing—
bring me into the light.
Maybe soon.









