Even in the middle of the storm
I find myself feeling numb
Things flying by at warp
Sometimes it all is too much
And I shut down
The switch doesn't flip as easily
It isn't always on any more
It's a default defensive mode
A machine constructed out of my hands
I sit with the beige
Try to process just like anything else
Lack of emotion is still an emotion
I don't know what to do with it
Expression seems kind of pointless
Dull ache among the contentedness
Sometimes there is a trigger
Always, probably
I'm just not aware of it
It has to do with exhaustion
Overload at a cellular level
Sleep an overwhelming obsession
Until my mind takes over
Panic kicks me into something
And it begins again
