Poet13's Blog

I am ill at ease with my senses
I do not wear my skin comfortably
I fidget and fret
find ways to knock myself out
a little relief for a little while
sleep isn’t doing its job

the tangled knots tighten
wary and harried I distract myself
with this and that preoccupation
fumble through the lot
partial success is a lure
or a hoax surely a false hope

keeps me coming back for more
a nibble here a mouthful there
no nourishment no satisfaction
stopping is impossible
the mind requires motion
the body tags along