My chenille duvet covers me
It has swallowed me up again and let me escape
To a world where the bills don’t exist
My homework is finished
The dishes don’t need to be done
The cats are fed and fast asleep
My son obeys to go to school and listen to his teachers
My chenille duvet hides my reality
The reality that
The bills still aren’t paid
The dishes are still there
The homework keeps piling up
The cats are at the foot of my bed, begging to be fed...again
My son has yet again skipped school and tried to come home, not knowing that i am under my duvet
My chenille duvet allows me to feel no pain
It allows me to forget
Even if for a little while
Under my chenille duvet, the world is silent
My feet are warm
My mind stops racing
My heart stops beating as if ravaged through my chest
I can breathe
Every day gets a little bit harder to leave my duvet
My old ragged gray soft duvet
I long for you during the day
On the days when i am in class and don’t have my homework to hand in, because i am so tired
On the days i get a call from my sons school asking where he is, when i know i dropped him off
On the days i get home, and the dishes are still there
On the days i get home from a 12 hour day, and realize i forgot to buy cat food again
On the days i come home and cringe going up the stairs as i pray they didn’t turn my electric off again.
My gray soft fuzzy duvet, I miss you
Why can’t you console me all the time?
I don’t want you to leave me
I need you to stay and make it all go away
I'm not certain if it's my broken heart speaking,
but I'm beginning to think that the duvet - that hugs me right now and shields my legs against the cold - gives me more warmth and love than any of your cuddles did.
From the depths of my duvet sleep
Your voice commands;
An arrow through the distance between
You and I, it made me
Take up the shutters
Of my insular shell
To welcome the night,
Lit by a mere halogen moon,
No Goddess for me to praise-
Only thick wraiths of choking smoke,
Absorbing what to you is a perfect orb
Of singular clarity
The trees are
turn table's slow
on the window
"let me in, my
Forget about the summer
sun who wilt your
as the morning chill
I wake consumed by
I know each day
is further now
I don't want to be in love anymore.
Remember the first time
I told you that I adore you?
And you said it made your stomach feel strange,
in a good way I suppose.
I get that same
pleasantly strange feeling
when I think of touching you,
or you touching me.
Or even just lying within arms length of of each other.
in my stomach
and leaves a tingling trail
throughout my hips.
Sometimes retreating to my lips.
Sometimes I pretend
we're only separated by the duvet on my bed
instead of the Atlantic ocean.
Do you ever want to crawl inside a duvet like a tomb.
To have the warmth pressing in on all sides,
Like the hug you always crave
but never receive.
Blocking out the outside world.
Like a temporary death.
Trying on your coffin as you would try on a dress.
You slow your breathing
and squeeze your eyes shut so tight, you’re seeing spots.
Can literally feel time moving around you,
Can hear the sound of rain pattering on the roof
and it’s like the heavens are falling.
You’re in your own world
In your own galaxy.
Far away from the body lying on its bed wrapped in its duvet.
Distanced from the problems,
and the beating of your own heart.
Craving for this to never end,
And maybe it doesn’t have to.
Vanaand vou ek my snoesig toe
in die soet-droom blou lug
iewers tussen die maan en die sterre...
en as die liggies my pla
trek ek weer, soos kleintyd, die duvet oor my kop
en verbeel myself dat
en jou honger hande
nie in die werled bestaan nie!!
Ek kruip dan in die sagte plekkies
van ontstuimige oseane...
so tussen deur die nate van
die brekende golwe...
en le terug as die trek
van moegheid my kom haal...
en terwyl die vloeiende satyn
my wange streel...
maak ek my oe toe
It was a kid-glove orange, a
leaf, or a Dancy tangerine
falling from the tree. I didn't
see it. I was watching a dance
of anger on TV while learning
to swing in a way that left me
needing my forlorn hope. The
change did not occur. Outside,
a drunk driver wearing zipper-skin
orange driving gloves swerved
sharply and hit my old, gnarled
tree during imbuing my hearing
with sexual innuendo. He could
not escape his awkward accident.
Much later, I heard that he had
suffered from Saint Vitus's dance.
In time, no one was able to heal
the wounds of my soul. I wanted
this Duvet day to end quickly.
Weave me blue blanket of lies
Made from young virtuous lamb,
Forevermore, my comfort to keep.
Diminutive truths bearing no power
Mixed within sweet fallacy threads
Create this masterpiece I hold so dear.
Chamomile brewing late into the night,
Screaming black kettle boils over the edge
And sizzling snaps trail quickly after.
Duvet released my hand reaches forth,
Blindly scraping left arm on hot stove.
Howls, yelps, screeches of pain fly out my lungs,
Loud enough for Lupa, Achos, and Ania
To gaily dance amidst- my guttural cries as melody.
Ice pressed against my torrid flesh
I grasp the blue cloth of lambskin,
My defense against harsh actuality.
Fraudulent bliss a path often chosen,
Tis the blind man's way of life,
So a blind man is what I shall be.
Ease me slow into the day
wake me gently from my sleep
if you must steal me from my dreams
the highlights let me keep
Don't wake with a noisy bell
or unexpected calls
wake me with the sound of rain
as on the metal roof it falls
Rouse me with sounds of nature
rising winds before the storm
give me time to close the shutters
before returning to the warm
If you could do this in the morning
and wake me in a gentle way
For once I'd take the day off
and in my bed I'd stay.