I swing back and forth, almost dizzy
Pointing inward and sometimes forth, outstretched, ready to pounce
Then retreat into fetal position until I'm bored
Obsessed over words, perplexed over silence, depressed over chocolate
Pacing, then frozen, thrusting at points of vanity
Unable to accept, both sides lack reality
Sleep has fled; now this is expected.
And I'm just too lazy to cry.