Awake
I can feel the sweat drops forming on my skin
Like morning dew
I can hear my blood ticking
My heart beating
My breath passes my lips
Like a tropical storm
Battering the defences of some third world country
My waking life is characterised by emotional dullness
My nerves offer nothing
I glide through the days
Waiting for a god I dont believe in
Hypersensitivity
Now even sleep offers no respite
From the ceaseless roar
Copyright © Stu Buck | Year Posted 2014
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