Thoughts: 4am in Queens

Laced with anxiety

Force fed ideation slow tempo drops onto my mind

A rhythmic brainwash.

Days go by unassumingly

Daylight distastefully blocked out by matte black curtains

“You think she’s an ally this darkness?”

She wraps me in familiarity

And illuminates the watchful eyes of the many

Her warped sense of insecurity I can relate to

Relax in

Refocus in

Maybe my fears would finally grow legs and take off

Burst into full sprints

Before grinding to a halt just before the line where paranoia meets logic

Irrationally rational rationale

When do I admit I’m a joke?

A beacon in their darkness?

With a compass as broken as my mind?

How do I guide the next if my last left nothing but insecurities and doubt repackaged from the one before her?

Drunken stupors I hope for

Intoxicated by goals

Some attainable

Others inevitable

The drive to succeed

Albeit fleeting

Exists.

Until my mind recovers

And the hangovers hit

The drive replaced by ineptitude

Photo © Inga Seliverstova