Late Night

Stuck inside a cardboard box
with nothing but the arms of clocks
weighing more with every tick
and I'm about to break

The vibrations from the truck
pollute my ever-present breathing
and I can hear the searing from a sun I've never found
We just keep moving


The sickness hits me like a hurricane
and lingers like its aftermath
While sundried afternoons kill the plants,

I laugh and laugh at every little image in my brain
before I realise how much it makes me look insane
I'm not, I swear I'm not
It's just that no one sees the world
we only breathe the air around us
trapped inside our little cubes
rely far too much on trust
and faith that we know.
We don't know
We don't know anything at all