Sickbed

My eyes are becoming yellow curtains

Paint the window

Stain the ceiling feverish green

My visitors smoked cigarettes

And ate all the things that had me feeling unwell

Everything that came out of me was wrong-colored

Or wasn't at all

The voices below rise through the window

Failing to make me well

Knocking on the door from the inside

Taking pictures of my room one last time

I can't live, without