I’ve been in a bit of a rut. I think it’s coming down from a few overly productive weeks. But you never know with these things.
I fell into bed and sunk. I watched the world above me disappear as I slowly drifted deeper and deeper into a warm and inky darkness that felt both inviting and cozy. I watched those on the surface look down on me, and they opened their umbrellas because it had begun to rain up there. I didn’t feel the rain down here in bed, under the water, all I felt was my lungs full of hazy thoughts and my nostrils filled with the smell of sheets, and the feeling that the rain wouldn’t touch me under here. Nothing would touch me.
It had been raining for weeks. Bed had been the only refuge. There was nothing to do but sleep. So I slept and stayed in bed. I could feel myself getting slower and my body becoming like that of an astronaut. You know, like how their muscles get weak because they don’t use them in zero gravity for so long.
But I didn’t want to get out of bed. What was out there that wasn’t in here?
So I stayed under the water, and sunk into sleep while those on the surface swam past my bedroom windows with purpose and drive. Sometimes I’d write poems, but that was usually just something to do when I’d come to for a few minutes.
There’s a way out of this, I just haven’t found it yet.