My stomach has been sick for weeks. I cannot put my finger on it.the reason.
Or maybe I just don't want to.
I just let whatever it may be rot away in the pit of my belly.
Whatever it may be, eats away at me all day long.
And all night too.
I sleep late, if at all.
I wake late.
I lie in bed, hoping the sheets will absorb me.
Me and my dreams.
I am silent and I am still.
With my face greyer than any rain soaked cloud.
Maybe I just need a holiday.
Perhaps it's not all as complicated as I make it.
Wrapping myself up in secrets.
Dreaming the life out of myself.