the cold and sterile winter light

breaks through the window of my room,

and here i sit, attempt to chat,

with chairs and with my ceiling fan.

my door is shut the tightest way.

my demons here alone with me.

ignore them as I bury deep

among the sheets and featherdown.

I try to close my weary eyes

and ask the chair what to do next.

the chair just creaks and doesn't speak;

my demons how they moan and sigh.

they pace about my frigid bed

and look upon me as I lay.

how many days must I stay here

until they all devour me?

I scream, "my life is maddening!"

which aggravates the demons more.

they snorth their wet and hot foul breath;

they wave their heads and wag their tongues.

they pounce upon my empty bed

and tear the sheets and featherdown

and rip apart my useless chairs

and hang me by my ceiling fan.