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Aug 2015
Come up to me

As I lay face up on the bed

Seeing nothing.

It’s probably just momentary,

The morning light is blinding but I’m

Not going anywhere for a while.

These covers captivate, they capture.

Wake me, break me, I’d rather scream than lay

In silence on minute longer.

I can’t feel anything under all these layers,

These places,

These faces.

I’m lying here, Just lying here-

I’m always lying here,

What am I doing, wasting my life under these sheets, duvets, and quilts?

And what the **** is a duvet anyway?

I’m just under the surface of something.

I can’t place it.

It’d be nice to know what I”m drowning in, but that’s

Just my luck.

Can’t I just get up, instead of

bleeding for one more line?

No I can’t. Ask me why,

Then it will be both of us in silence.

I suppose it’s

the obvious reason.

There’s no motivation out there

In the big world full of bombs and ******* Abercrombie.

What possibly keeps all of these people

Going-

Going.

Give me one good thing out there,

And a minute to tear it down.

Everything is getting teared down.

So my bed is

The more favorable option.

The fleece smells like fabric softener and

There’s a far greater chance of

Something positive coming from my dreams

Than from the next election,

From Darfur.

To die, to sleep. To sleep- perchance to dream.

As if I would be so lucky.

I see only blackness.
Sarah Carbonneau
Written by
Sarah Carbonneau
805
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