head in a daze
body in a haze
feeling heavy, limbs sluggish
I wade through (not) a swamp
pot of broth, thick with fat
rich with meat, hint of green
cooked to melting, innards dissolving
into nothingness— and so the pot
thickens.
No thought, no movement, only
a deep laxation, eyelids drooping
down
down
down
down
and I
jerk awake, the bus has stopped— not
my stop, and the, dark, beckons to me
again