My internal images have⁣⁣
become black holes and⁣⁣
fractal shapes of the dark⁣⁣
Bare thoughts of bare bones⁣⁣
blocks all the weary souls⁣⁣
But dawn comes to lift me up⁣⁣
And the light finally sets me free in sleep⁣⁣
⁣⁣
The dreary Sundays and evening haze⁣⁣
a broken path and internal rage⁣⁣
Fading sense of self, state of flow⁣⁣
Words that sow, images of an ideal world⁣⁣
Where do I begin when I keep reaching ends⁣⁣
Where else do I go, the colourful internal life ⁣
that I run away from