Every Stone

These green eyes never close. Hand to hold left indisposed. Heart thrown, present location unknown. Prone to being found quiet and stoned. Ribcage a glockenspeil of pain.

Sick day.

I promise I'm not playing up again.

Self administering, locked away. Quarantined til Monday. Another death weekend. Holding on to you. Can barely watch any telly. Can't bare to leave for food. Know when you leave it's for good. No, it'll be for good. For this is nothing good.

Come of this nothing would. I can see to come of this nothing would.

Danger, danger on the walls and all over the floor. I've been spilling beans again. My heart's sticking to the carpet. Used a sopping tissue to mop it. I've got a table full of little yous I can use to stop it. Refusing to see past it. My vision's strewn with dirty glasses.

A glass temple in the fourth wall lets in just enough light for me to tell that I can't see properly. I'm hoping some day I'll find the collective term for God and me. For now I'll just have to settle on lost property. A garb I'd never buy, but just couldn't leave.

This morning I found myself. In my bed. Threw myself head first into my head. Woke to find you instead. Leant over and sniffed til you pulled me back to rest. Back into the rest of me. Arrested for two knife wounds found in memory foam.

Woke to find myself alone next to your unlocked phone. Found myself scrolling for inspiration to take us outside of our comfort zone.

Safe word?

Same as your pin code...

Nothing's sacred, I've turned every stone.