He sprawls
Upon the four-poster, a
Mediocre alt-rock song on the radio
Reminding him
That giving up
Is far quieter
Than this.
The heaviness
In his chest
Is worse this evening.
It sinks,
The color
Gray-blue,
Sad mauve,
In his throat, his head;
The feeling experienced
While observing the sky through tears
(And pretending they are raindrops),
Washed-out,
Blurred,
Dim,
Dark.
The blanket is
Too soft
And the window's light is uncomfortable,
And his thoughts are eons away, outside,
In the dusk,
Away
From here.
It presses, it looms,
But he remains.
So he sprawls
Upon the four-poster, a
Mediocre alt-rock song on the radio.
It plays,
He hears
Nothing.
