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Sep 2012
My bed is full of crumbs:
It's odd how very very dire that is.

I'm surrounded by empty plastic

Containing the memories of food:
Traces, some crusty cheese, a last sip.
And my bed is full of sugary crumbs.
My hair clumps stickily to my neck.
The fluorescence of the room flickers -
(The fleeting worry of unfixable darkness)
How terrible it is to be sick in my bed
And sick of my bed.
Sick of nothing, nothing,
Nothing at all

And surrounded by
Hollowed, consumed, abandoned, desiccated,
Used-up, plastic
Written by
Sleepy Sigh  26
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