Thirteen Hours Awake

Chalky vitamin taste
with a crayon in my hand.
Drawing doodles down my sleeve,
cherry red, isn't it grand?

I fear I'm but a bit obsessed,
monsters filling to the brim.
I used to feel that life was whole,
tonight it's no more than skim.

7:12 in the morning,
7:12 at night.
I've been awake for far too long
and my eyes are hurting from the light.

Silence, it's sort of nauseating,
it just bothers me to know
that you think that I don't care...
The poem's dead, I suppose.