freshness guaranteed

if anyone were to ask, my bed

is the picture of bliss –

duvet wrinkled with

peaks and crests of my own

making, I, godlike

the ident of my body

fetal position, odor

of sweat and obscene humanity that just

won’t budge no matter

how ardently the advert – “freshness guaranteed ” –

promises it will – lies

the light is spilling through the

blinds, intent on revealing what I have tried

so hard to conceal

try as it does to disturb the fragile peace

of this mausoleum of the night

before –

bliss, as I said

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