BEATNIK: A Poetry Collection

and shine

most days off

I lie in bed,

damning my

arms for not

lifting me up

to start the

day.

I lie there,

beneath a warm,

blue blanket,

attempting to

fight off my

desire to

experience the

world against my

fear to go through

the day, only

to see it end.

my days off

are a mass,

a sanctuary

from a working-

class life my

younger self

swore he'd never

be a part of.

now I'm just

the liar.

an older version

whose youth became

obsolete the second

responsibility kicked

down my door and

started having its

way with me.

now I lie in

bed all day,

telling myself

to get up and

to go walk in

the sun before

it's gone.

but I won't,

and I know

exactly why.

it's all because

somewhere in my

twisted mind I

feel that if I

don't have to

experience the

new day I won't

have to see it end.

maybe if I

just go back

to sleep I

won't have

to miss this

either.