Sick.

Six days from school and I'm finding myself
Bored with everything I busy myself with.
My alarm clock's become my only ally,
Keeping the minutes ticking until you call.
In and out of medicated comas,
Why do I keep laughing at the same cartoons?
The blinds are down on one window,
Shading me in semi-sheltered dark.
My OCD tendencies are kicking in,
And I want to draw them back to match.
Tossing and turning, dreaming the same
Dreams I have every night, again and again.
So consistent I'm starting to wonder if
I ever truly do wake up?
Six more hours, twenty-three minutes
And I'll be hearing from you again.
You think you're finally growing into your face.
And I think that's cute.
Late night phone calls blur together,
Yet somehow you still manage to stay clear.
Vivid, freshly engraved on my mind's eye.
Your laughter brings better solace
Than I could ever find in a perscription bottle.