I Don't Want To Feel Now

I.
There must be something
sitting on my chest
that my eyes are blind to.
It isn't hurting me
as much as it is seeping
into my lungs.
(I feel heavy now.)

II.
And my head hits the pillow
like it is north
and the other is south.
But the fields
are keeping me awake
with exchanging currents.
(I feel stuck now.)

III.
I've noticed the wall
beside my bed has bumps.
I've had enough time
to stare at something insignificant,
and now I realize just how much
I've never really cared.
(I feel small now.)

IV.
The lights are all blaring
and the clock is behind my head.
But the sunlight through my shutters
is reminding me of my existence
and how much I don't deserve it.
It's 5PM and I'm lying down again.
(I feel worthless now.)

V.
There is too much silence here
and the room is buzzing
like the dead flies
in my windowsill used to do.
Next time I get up I'll make a note
to clean those out later.
(I feel numb now.)