i spend my days lying down, motionless
for hours, staring at this too familiar ceiling

i spend my days doing nothing, brought by
a crippling inability to speak what I mean
or do what I wish (on things that matter
most to myself)

i spend my days reacting to your slightest movement,
with a doll's passivity bordering on disgusting

i spend my days being a mere watcher, a witness
to the wonder of how beauty grows

you are a sight to behold
and it must be such joy to be held

but i'd rather spend my days lying down, motionless
trying **** hard to dream of you
(but only nightmares come through)