Can't Sleep

Lying in bed. Blankets. Imagining glass orbs. With fireflies inside. There’s people sleeping. Tracing skeleton thoughts. While lying around. Nothing. I like to write. About scraggly eyes and itchy grass. You have to eat. I do, and the thought of food is scrunched up in my mind. Pizza, but it’s made of bubble wrap. Burgers, but it’s a car running into me. I have to go home sometime. I said at some point. Images. Dead fireflies come to life. Fireflies eating flesh. Lying in bed. Just the background noise. And this bed is strange. Blankets making grumbling complaints. They’re all so mean to me. And there’s a swarm coming. The ceiling is closing in. There’s nothing to do. But lie around. And they judge me. For doing so. In this place. That is a home for beds. And I'm trapped.