Minggu, 12 Februari 2012

the sky is grey and empty
I pull on sweaters,
zip jackets,
tug at hoods,
layer after layer
to stay warm

I've always been pale,
but I never looked this sick

the coffee pot stays on
all day, and I still yawn
every few minutes,
crawl into bed, try to sleep

people call, but I don't go out
mail comes, but I don't open it
life happens, but I don't live it

I stopped reading the paper last week

Nothing changes