Life is role-playing
Invest in side-quest, distract
In fact from the main

When the bed beckons
The moon mourns the boon of sun
You begin descent

Hieroglyphics carved
Into the walls of your skull
By what lies beneath

Primordial scribes
The playwrights of your nature
Encode their secrets

Splashed in slashes
Replaced with scar tissue
Barely damming the red flow
My home is the sea bed’s box spring
My blood rusts its coils
Pain on departure
Likewise on arrival

I float on the blanket
Awaiting the precarious raft
It arrives daily in varying conditions
The captains’ vessels cast their trying shadows
Still, I board and sail
Thirsting for dry land

Serpents of rope constrict the logs
Holding them together
Tearing me apart
Hissing their gavels on my head
Guilty of absence
Guilty of incompetence

The weight of my worries
Accrue with compound interest
Until my modest platform
Acrid with decay
Dissolves past the mattress
Returning me home

Here is my first step
The finish line transparent
My footprints blush blue