I sit motionless in a daze for many weeks
Listening to stereo speakers' box spring squeaks,
Hearing those doorway warning midnight creaks.
I remain here on the cushion like a big jewel
Thinking about my different faces.
They reflect polish glazing off into many directions.
And the brightness they shine is dimmed by the cloud
Of security covering me like a shroud.
The sound that I make is the music I hear
But it dies when it reaches my ear.
Maybe one day I'll fall from this velvety pillow,There's one thing about the future that I can't stand,
Dropping like a golf ball into the sand.
While I idle the others are working.
Like a sponge, I take in their excess.
It seems so clear that what I offer is wasted --
The burning loss of what used to be mine.
Maybe one day I'll fall from this velvety pillow,
Dropping like a golf ball into the sand.