17 | February | 2016 | Golden Star Poetry

you incumbate, still sucumb to nothingness.
so this is tired.
hello bed.
i need you but i never nest in you.
i want your covers for a thousand years,
filling a thousand sheets.
comfort, blanket, quilt, duvet,
mother sleeping close at bay
the pillows lining up in just the right way
to pandiculate:
i am running from life
in this motionless coma
never to deal
with all of life’s drama.