The Devil’s Chair is covered in dark red velvet,
It calls to me, and I comply.
I sit, and it engulfs me.
I forget what it was I am supposed to do…
Was I planning to write?
All thoughts are drained away.
Motivation?
What is that?
Drive and desire are siphoned into nothingness.
I pick up the TV remote,
Idly flipping through channels,
Hoping to find inspiration,
Finding instead…
Deterioration.
Minutes morphing into hours,
What was it I was supposed to do?
I must get out of this chair
I need to pee
I need to eat something, to drink.
To sleep would be better, I think.
I pull my big, fluffy blanket over
And cover myself in its warmth
Sleep is a sweet siren song, promising dreams
And escape.
All I have to do is wrap myself up
Sleep is waiting to hold me, and to caress me
Dreams are waiting to take me somewhere besides here,
Anywhere, but here.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.05 seconds at 4:27am on Nov 17, 2024 via server WEBX1.