Cracked Decay

My natural non-concentrated sight is blurred,
the voices speak to me remain unheard,
papers pass like butterflies in the wind,
messages sorted when should be binned,
brain on idle while caffeine is low,
I cannot stay and yet cannot go,
a deep breath absorbs no oxygen in,
the dust dries and cracks my skin,
tangled wrists from over grown hair,
wrapped around to be stuck in this chair,
toenails curled to grip the floor,
wanting to itch just makes it sore,
eyelids open but eyes are dry,
as a deep loneliness wants to cry,
cannot raise head or eyebrows,
nothing here in this never ending drowse.