Productivity, Away From Me

grey skies
cloud my mind
grey room
to imprison, to confine

i can feel myself hanging from the edge
of productivity
sewn delicately under fingertips
but yet again from my grasp it slips

today, like any other day
thousands of canvasses set side by side
all littered with the same continuous stoke
of a dull shade

im bett
i live in bed because the comforter does its job
i will not move today
because the comforter comforts
and keeps my aimless soul warm