Most read ▸
ceiling studies
staring at the same ceiling
every day from late night to early morning
the newborn sunlight iluminates my freshly torn skin
as my eyes look upwards
burning after a long time of not closing
by now I know every dent
every scratch and bump
my limbs weigh more than the ocean
they stay glued to my tough sheets
the expression plastered upon my face is one of great concern
the thoughts running marathons around my head
the white ceiling knows me off
it knows my bones
my dimples and every freckle
I want to stop looking at it
but I am addicted