my love and hate relationship with my bed
what i like about my bed:
i can lie on it for hours and smile about anything, everything, nothing. i could stare at the series of lightbulbs wrapped around my bed frame and i would feel as though i'm looking through an out of focus camera. i can pretend that my matress is a giant arm that is always there, ready to clasped it's fingers around me when i'm in a need of a giant molecular hug. a giant molecular hug.
what i hate about my bed:
it tears me apart from left to right, head to toe, muscle to muscle. it pulls my eyelids in the opposite direction, causing a layer of dusted tears to form on the surface. it drags me from the stomach to the core of its spell, until i drown and sink. leaving me desperately searching for air. the filthy air of hate, desperation, and nostalgia that dominates the space.
i can lie on it for hours and smile about anything, everything, nothing. i could stare at the series of lightbulbs wrapped around my bed frame and i would feel as though i'm looking through an out of focus camera. i can pretend that my matress is a giant arm that is always there, ready to clasped it's fingers around me when i'm in a need of a giant molecular hug. a giant molecular hug.
what i hate about my bed:
it tears me apart from left to right, head to toe, muscle to muscle. it pulls my eyelids in the opposite direction, causing a layer of dusted tears to form on the surface. it drags me from the stomach to the core of its spell, until i drown and sink. leaving me desperately searching for air. the filthy air of hate, desperation, and nostalgia that dominates the space.