Narrow Vision

Anything beyond my focus is nothing to me.

I stare blankly at the sleek brown table,

the one thing my brain can focus on,

but even that is obscured by my mind.

Shelves upon shelves of books surround me,

decades to centuries of information

all within reach of my eyes,

more information than the mind could ever hold.

Especially a mind such a mine, a mind

that cannot tell the difference between

a casual talk and something more.

People sit around me in silence,

blank slates absorbed in their own world.

Who knows how their minds work except them,

just as they don’t know me.

Fluorescent lights shine into my pupils and

blind me worse than worry.

The chair I sit in feels like quicksand,

which I neither have the strength nor

the passion to escape.

I feel like a void, like limbo,

as imaginary darkness shrouds

the sanctuary around me. 

Written in during the autumn of 2017