these mornings
when the illness clings
fifteen hours of sleep
seeking god’s reflection
in the silverware
demanding answers to
questions uniformly unformed
sick with a mouth coated
in coagulated heart blood
unable or unwilling to wake
drowning in silence
as every dream lacquered
wish falls flaccid
a fish suffocating
mere inches from the sea
laying in this prison
staring up at the sky
seeing only the nothingness
in my soul reflected back

limping through this
labyrinth of parallel corridors
every fetid daydream
will o’wisps flashing
drowning in clouds of sawdust
from every corner cut
seeking happiness in this
world of torturous disdain
alone
begging for one taste
of the joy so many simply
take for granted
spitting clotted sorrows
onto the salted fields
where no seed may find purchase