A tree falls in the forest.
It doesn’t make a sound.
I’m sprawled in suffocating silence,
Slowly decomposing in my bedsheets.
The half-moon watches from the window,
Its surface covered in deep grey scars,
Which is how I imagine my brain looks
After constant toxic exposure.
I’m always in my bed, never sleeping.
I’m always on my phone, never talking.
I’m less than a bystander now,
I’m taking it all lying down.
I’m a pillow full of muffled screams.
I’m a mirror full of murdered dreams.
I’m clogged and overflowing with fears.
I’m choking on my angry tears.
The half-moon watches from the window,
Like the grim, grieving ghost of Earth.
The half-blind eye can see the shadow creeping
To cover everything, smother everything, soon.