Chapped lips, clammy feet

The scratchy blanket keeps me cold

On days like these I find it hard to remember myself

The comfort of routine, a  fr ag me n t

A life of meaning, an               

afterthought

Movies to watch and books to read pass me by

A thin film over my mind

Makes me forget hours and days

Until I'm left with the painful dryness of Now

Eyes burned by bright light

Mind numb from quick pleasure

Not craving food, only wanting to disappear

Soft hums brush my ear

Movement, gust of wind, parents

A deep breath to keep myself from suffocating

Senses      muddled       and          drifting

To the nearest source of action

Outside my window, a bird’s call! keeps me alive

My wrist can’t keep writing

Poetic words esca ping

Sur rende r to th e u n forgivable Y O U

There is nothing poetic left.

The death of everything is mostly quiet.

I sink into my pillows, a dead weight.