Still.

Stuck, stuck, floating

Glued to where I lay, forced to adapt
Always vicariously feeling, constantly
Intervention calling, please help

Sing to me, teach me

My arms retreat to where they were
and not much changes
Angels drift by, nonchalant and ignorant

My only lover called sadness reaches for me

As all arms retreat simultaneously,
my head wills itself to implode –
I hear a clicking and I’m gone

Bruises and sutures, I’m here