Nausea

Is a thought.
the unsupported weight of a self
A house of strangers.Is sharing the silence 
Is craving.Is realising.
Is the Again
maybe
the inability to exist but as a solitary unit.
Defiance to my every compulsion
Hoping.
Is carbon monoxide thoughts that you breath and leave you alive.
Knowing.
Is finding you in the verses of my poems.
Not knowing.
Your making love. 
Eyes. The eyes of all the men I've loved in yours.
Is nightmares you brought me and felt true.
Is reading not surprising me anymore
A phonecall.
Trying to fit into the language of your love.
Would it hurt?
Is inadequacy.
What you get when you stop before it happens.
Maybe no eyes of people like mine.
Oscillations of love 
delusions oscillating.
A picture I was happy in.
no paper to write.
Sitting up to go home after.
The walk back.
The drifting asleep like a numbing muffling sound of the world fading into the morning.