Circles of darkness span out around dull eyes,
Veins like cobwebs trail beneath them, with their mascara-spiders,
All of it plastered over in black eyeshadow, a bad attempt to hide traces of lost sleep,
But nobody looks so nobody sees, the damage the lost hours are doing to me.
Days blur together, connected by lucid nightmares and dead poems,
Books read but never remembered, pictures drawn but never dreamt.
Head hitting the wall over and over, pounding like a pulse
Below a throb of music. Nails sharpened, scraping face,
Drawing blood, knock myself out.
I suppose I'll continue on like this
Until I die of exhaustion, like a greyhound that has been raced to death,
Slaughtered by my own traits.