Brain Rot and Broken Clocks

Brain Rot and Broken Clocks

Fingers flick through flashing screens,
feeding me filth, force-fed and fake,
seconds stretch like snapped elastic,
every hour a hollow mistake.

Walls whisper wasted warnings,
windows warp with weathered grime.
I’m locked inside this looping nothing,
ticking time just wasting time.

Shuffle steps in silent circles,
carpet’s crushed beneath my weight.
Whispers whittle will to nothing,
watching clocks that won’t rotate.

Patterns pound inside my ribcage,
restless, wrecked, and paper-thin.
Banging doors and breaking mirrors
just to prove I still exist again.

Laughter lingers, long forgotten,
echoes empty in my chest.
Wired wrong, I wind up wanting
something sharp to end the rest.

Motionless but mind is racing,
running roads that never end.
Boredom’s just a different prison,
one where nothing lets you bend.

Boredom breeds a bitter beast,
burning bridges in my brain.
Circuits spinning, unchanging screaming,
everything just feels the same.

Mind is melting, minutes mocking,
waiting wears the soul away.
Bored to death but still surviving,
lost inside another day.