Burrowing Deeper

A poem

Image by Andy Vult, via Unsplash. Edited by the author.

Time passed,

the sun completed laps
while I struggled to move

curtains drawn
bottles emptied
greasy skin glued to warm
cotton,

a cozy coffin,
a comfortable death.

The loop disorienting,
never sure what day it is,
a foul taste in the mouth
the sound of jangling keys, nearing,
the distance closing in but still
unobtainable,
untouchable,

cold.

Colder sweats, still,
forming and shifting
exploring this unmoving body,
the only limp suggestion
of life.

The blinds like prison bars,
curtains before them set like cement,
a dividing wall,
the weight of the duvet
crippling,
the weight of a new day
crushing.