Pills and Pens

I reluctantly open my eyes 

as my skin glows beneath the sun. 

Its rays break through my curtains, 

inhabited by small specks of dust 

dancing above the mounds of cloth. 


There I lie, turning my head over my shoulder 

to see the pills and pens. 

Lined up on my nightstand in uniform 

like a murder of perching crows. 

Swearing, I hear the faintest of their calls, 

mocking the grimace 

on my face. 


I eventually lift each finger, 

one after another 

to cultivate the slightest bit of motion. 

Though my other limbs stay stagnant, 

as if they were tied 

in a bouquet. 

I somehow unravel myself,

leaning against the wall 

with legs I feel 

I have never used. 


Beyond the hallway, 

a morning light eclipsed 

by broken blinds 

casts a shadow beneath my feet, 

revealing the silhouette 

of a walking corpse. 

I watch it converge 

into the pitch-black of the porcelain tiles. 

Where it greets me again, 

now under 

a fraudulent sun.


-- Johnathan N., Adult