Hypophrenia

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The same loop of sunrise to set
over and over as the clock ticks on
yet it remains the same
a pang 
reverberating through strings of the heart
it never but always is
the same old thing 
harder and harder it becomes
to lift my head from its resting place
letting water flow
to wash the previous day down the drain
the same places
the same faces
day after day
blurring together into one 
to the light 
to the dark 
over and over
a scratched record
jumping to the start
of the same waltz
to which I have yet to learn the dance

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