I sit in the middle of the bed & spread my limbs out

until I can reach the very tip of the bed’s edges

& try not to remember the times I have shrunk to a dot in its middle

& refused to take up space & took up more and more

& now the bed creaks as I sit on it, heavy

eyelids falling every time I sit down

& it has been a long day. or was it a week,

passed by in complacency & self-indignation?

or was it a year of passivity, a conduit for feet

upon my face, my body, my ever-failing body?

& so I try to figure myself out & grow only more


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