This is something of a curse,
Gouged runes in every limb,
A spell since birth,
This resistance to movement,
Innate in my being,
An unwelcome piece of my soul,

I’m a sloth in pyjamas,
My hair glued to a pillow,
From work or strain,
I hide under unwashed laundry,
Peeking out from behind hazy chalices,
Still sat amongst last nights supper,

I’m an acolyte in bed sheets,
This sedentary religion has taken me by force,
This creed of sluggishness,
I feel no joy at this baptism,
It’s an aspect of shame,
A cross I’d rather not bear,

These words,
Spoken from my bunk,
They are my mea culpa.

Comments
  1. I really dig the allusions in religious terms to an everyday scene. Great write!

  2. Deeply felt imagery from reading these well penned words. Your poetry took the soul on a journey. Really very well done.🌟

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