Rosebud headache

that tiny man inside my head
is at it again-
pounding like a swollen clock,
creeping inside my hidden thoughts
and messing with those forgotten
scars
of yesterday.
I haven't done him wrong,
yet he keeps insisting on
mushing my all
into a ball of pain and memories and hurt
patches that don't fit anymore...
nothing feels real,
nothing makes me feel alive
these days,
I might be dead,but my pulse
says the exact opposite-
silly man,you're so stubborn and vain!
a rosebud headache is blossoming
inside this skull of mine
in a time before spring's dawn-
I feel dizzy and surreal,
trapped beneath the dots
of a negative photograph...
that tiny man inside my head
is slowly digging up a grave...