Plastic Wrap
2024-10-21
Empty nest of thousand acres
Yet the air so still
As if a plastic wrap
With just 11.4 cubic feet of space
Holding me in place
Forbidding me to work
Or relax.
Breathing… again and again and again
Like Sisyphus.
What’s the point in writing this?
Momentary feel-good?
Cry for help?
Plastic wraps can be punctured
Not this one, no,
It self-heals, more air to hold me down.
I try to sleep
Hoping for a lucid dream
Where I’m not like this.
Where the air is not still.
I wake up… why? why?
That world is gone,
Back to here.
Stuck-in-place,
Breathing… again and again and again.