There’s this hole in me
It’s infinite
I am infinity
     And this bed is a web
     And I am stuck in its sticky sheets
     That are weaving in and out of the crevices of my body

And my ceiling fan is growing legs
And eight beady, focused eyes
That are hovering over me with malicious intent

        And my floor is twenty stories below me
Filled with the echoes of lost dust bunnies
Who can’t save me from the beast

This hole is still gaping
And it’s hungry; ravenous
     I am the beast
    And I can’t save me from myself