Conscience

When you lose control, you agonize
about why you did what you did,
lose sleep, eyes roaming the ceiling, night
light shifts, shadows playing tricks.
You rationalize, tell yourself those lies
you need to, trying to wipe from your mind
words and images that the more you wish
to press them out, the more vivid they become.
A circle, vicious sometimes, scribes jagged in futility.
But that was back then. When you were younger,
cared more than you do now, now barely
bothered sometimes, a passing afterthought or two,
then fluff the pillow on your way to a deeper sleep.