Weeks rolling in and out of bed, eventually the blankets become rough
But under them I remain, my skin rubbing off in sheets
And pillows stained with drool and ash and milky tears
The bed sticks to me, engulfs me
As if i were to leave, i'd leave pieces of me
Like a decomposed corpse
Left hidden in an abandoned home
With no one to find me full of maggots
With no one to clean me up
And put me neatly in a wooden box
So I can finally rest