he sits fork scraping
pushing his dinner
around the plate
unable to will
the fork to lift
unable to taste the meal

songs play softly
but they are a chorus of
discordant buzzing
a book lays untouched
the words simply
swim on the page

he tell himself
he has to keep moving
or he will perish
so he slowly stands
leaving the book, plate, the music
and crawls into bed

mouthing silent prayers
that go unheard
whispering i love yous
that go ignored
to fall into fetid dream
that will go unfulfilled