Sleep Diction

Ramen

Weak.
I am weak.
Frail, noodle, swayed by fear.
I like noodles.
Fear.
Terror, despair. Mundane fissures erupt from the inside, until punching it's way out.
Bruised. Slowed functions.
Disoriented, I am confused.
I lose.
For I am weak.
Weak to my own functions.
Weak to my own opinions.
Assumptions.
I assume more than I do myself.
My stomach is full of beans. Noxious.
I sometimes eat beans.
Time creeps along when I have time to think on me.
I am alone. The definition of lonely. Lonesome, loathing.
I hate me, I can't stand the scenarios I create.
For I am never the victor, I only ponder defeat.
Lost losses, I have so many losses and so little gains.
Masking behind the smile I strain.
Crying for anyone to grasps my pain, to remain, to sustain.
I've been shackled, to thine own commands.
My thoughts are prisons, with stained glass and doubts for comfort.
Success is battered.
Incomplete.
I'm incomplete.
I'm am my own worst help.
I am my torturer.
Dressed in my best linens.
Sabbath.
These wounds are upon my spirit.
Bandaids, and home remedies, unable to cleanse in a positive way.
Just a couple of positive words, or maybe even some acknowledgment could keep my sharp questions at bay.
I am wounded.
Ten years deep.
I am weak.