I just don’t know what I am doing anymore.
So I get up just to keep pace with the moving floor.
At least there’s something to move towards
for no real reason, except of course, that
my legs are shaking, aching for something to do.
But I rearranged all the furniture in my room
At least three or four or five times now
I just can’t get it right somehow.
And the walls are moving in.
Oh, the terrible winter is falling down onto the driveway
And I can’t get out
I’ve got two extra hands and they follow me
through my waking hours and in my dreams I’m imagining
that I’d float away from my body
and I wouldn’t know how to get back inside.
And the walls are moving in.
The walls move in.
I can’t breathe in this nothing in the air all around me.
Won’t somebody come and find me in here?
There’s nobody here but me.
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