Time to Leave the Capsule

There is a tone to being in the covers surrounded by 

Mucused tissues and empty thoughts 

And empty thoughts,

Longing for the last mother,

Wanting sex with the next, not considering 

The causes, the sacrifices. The sneezes the illness the sickness.

Picture an ill child as they get it out their system 

Necessarily, silent spurts forging life for them, discovering 

The art of manipulation 

And fried egg sandwiches, it not having to be like anything 

For the poor thing but patterns

Desperate to be stimulated: viewers–look

At the kid: faceless and ungendered,

Alone 

And unknown and free

In the sticky: do you think he cares 

What all this is? Do you think he’ll consider what is being released? 

His is a flowing out 

Of depth, for sure. But then not so very big 

Or important or bleak, for now. 

Though it might just be another lift, sunshine.