ghostly blue from the heater
and unnatural green from devices
no will to move but still move
misery begets fairly good work
orange street light through blinds
everything is so dark and colorful

in a dark room
arm resting on a cat
the heater turns on
writing like mad
then lying motionless

small bruise on my arm
pain in my gut
not happy
not productive
alone and sad

turn my head to the side
smile because there is good

the sidewalk is covered in glass
Coca-Cola is across the street
the air smells like fried chicken
what a perfect metaphor

cat sleeps
turns his head
legs out in front
vulnerable
at peace