black

Holding onto the black ink,
Your hand is mess, but your head is clear.
Your white sheets are filled in a blink
you are the captain of your thoughts,
and all the trouble in there will wrought 

Turn up the music, to lower all that noise
the clutter feels all the same, the distresses have their own voice.
Red ears, racing heat and all those incidents happening inside your head
are not real. breathe!

black box

It's a dark box! It's glass and u can see everything around u. But u are not participating. You open ur eyes and u brush ur teeth, stand under the water...but ur body feels like stone. U simply put on ur clothes have a cup of tea and rush. But ur still inside this huge black room. Everything and everyone appears to be talking to u from far. U forget! U need to write or create, u just want to shut out everyone. U want to hear music , read something and not be part of this sham. It's pointless. U don't feel anything....but u feel everything and all at once. U have to be this person ur not. You don't want to talk nothing excites you anymore. Perhaps a walk would do, perhaps at the edge of a cliff u want to sit...watch the sunrise or sunset. Ur trapped. Every inch of ur body aches. Every inch of it feels like stone. Ur exhausted. U want to sleep but as you lay down, the day starts playing in ur head. Before you know it ur alarm rings. U wake up and then u just want to sleep! And the rhythm continues...