Nighttime Clarity

A short poem (sort-of) about feeling like a walking contradiction.

Every day I wake to a bright white darkness
The most sterile of infected surfaces
Every room I entered is washed in gloom
At the flick of a dark switch
Every person I see is made of a bleak richness
Clothed in a tactile nothingness
Every road I drive down is moving at a rapid standstill
Traveling in the safest of deathtraps
Every meal I eat leaves me insatiably nourished
Served to me at temperatures of cool warmth
Every site I see, I see with a focused blur
Observing the world with a fuzzy accuracy

I wake tired and apathetic - regardless