The world is busy with better wars
But my head collapses for one.
Migraine oust all the shades of comfort
Acknowledge its image for fostering none.
The world is busy with exaggerated issues
And my head collapses for one.
Beg or pray but the day it comes
Nothing suffices the throbbing skull.
The world is busy with earnest ignorance
And my head collapses for one
Insomnia and dreams seems integrated
With moon beside me I wonder about the sun.
The world is busy with obsolete verdicts
And my head collapses for one
There Foucault pendulum of mature law rusts
Between the sin from past and the future of none
The world is busy with chronic break-ups
And my head collapses for one.
The balm on her palm ignites
The lucid accusation on her tongue
The world is busy with eternal wounds
But my head collapses for one.
Finally the pain-relief enchants the ache
And I enter the vicious cycle of malady.
