'Hypnotics' - a Poem

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Hypnotics

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and you’re back in the room,
a clock tick, air sorts through
the sound it carries on

inside the ears, you tried
but couldn’t quite forget
you had them

always on. what hope of self
hypnosis can exist

when even chairs conspire
to keep you woken,
say by touch

this is the difference,
you won’t get away that easy.

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lazarus-wist@lazarus-wist
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Meditation is hard.
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'Hypnotics' - a Poem | Ecency