Lit Mag Poetry

looping

my bed has molded perfectly to the shape of my spine
it seems to be the only thing in life that i can consistently call mine
stare at the bare ceiling until your eyes run dry
 
watch the nothingness and let time pass you by
waking up everyday simply to sit “content”
it seems like the universe is simply hellbent
 
on taking anything good and enjoyable away
discord notifications as the only reminder that it’s a new day
falling back into another formerly quit habit
isolate in my room, rather than let my family simply have at it
 
the panel of led lights that line my wall
are blinding, almost bright enough for me to forget it all
days where the blue light didn’t consume me
days where i didn’t have to wait until college to feel free
 
but for now i’m stuck in this circle that never ends
as academia’s 13th year leads me down twist and turns and mental dead-ends
but at least i have this unknown future to pull me down the line
because the anger and exhilaration reminds me of still being alive. 

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