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Desolation
January 4, 2017
“They come, they wake us,
time and time over.
They are to be happy in.”
-Phillip Larkin
You lie awake in a jumble
of damp linens.
Your eyes are
the size of the pills
you struggle to swallow
every night.
Anchors clamp onto your ankles
and drag you to the depths
of your own notions.
You hiss,
you wheeze,
and you gasp
for that one breath,
that one breath,
you just can’t seem to locate.
Immobile,
you ponder the desire
for another day.
But
days are to be happy in?
© Anonymous
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