7. The Mire

Couch king, stuck static, throne made of dust, Sunlight sneaks in, but the blinds stay hushed. Clock hands tick slow, tauntin’ my trust, Dreams decay, abandoned, left in the rust. Phone screen scrollin', days just blend, Fading connections, no messages send. Caught in the silence, where shadows extend Tunnel so long, can't see the end. Scrollin’ void, glow of the screen, Dreams suffocate, unseen, unclean. Time’s a thief, sly and mean, Laziness a swamp, no evergreen. Rot on repeat, days turn to ash, Shadows of ambition buried in my stash, Procrastination’s venom, time slips fast. Sloth’s grim anthem, a life miscast. Stacks of dishes, empire of grime, “Later” flows heavy, drownin’ my prime. Tomorrow’s promise, a liar in rhyme, Treadmill existence, no peaks to climb. Piles of plans like clothes on the floor, Each one a key, but I ain't touch the door. Microwave dinners, ambitions expired Life on pause, my passion's been mired. Feet nailed down, floorboards are my jail, Every busted plan just adds to the tale. The mural of regret, painted so stale, Life’s ship sailin’, me still on the rail. Sloth in my bloodstream, crawl through my veins, Shackled by laziness, looped in its chains. Endless this idleness, void my domain, A circus of to-dos, but the ringleader abstains. Sandman whispers, lullaby on repeat, Couch cushions sunk, where ambition retreats. Clock hands tap dance, no progress in sight, Shadows stretch long, devouring daylight. Mountains unmoved, the shovel's on break, Dreams fossilize beneath choices we fake. Netflix running loops ‘til the mornings blurry, Sloth whispered lies, told me I wasn’t in a hurry. Curtains drawn tight, my world a cocoon, Spinning webs of nothing from morn until moon. The mirror’s reflection a ghost of my prime, Each blink of an eye skips a chapter in time. Walls whisper memories of roads never taken, Foundation cracks where resolve was forsaken. Life's parade passes—marching, relentless, As I drown in the pool of my own defenseless. Yesterday whispers, taunts with its grin, Windows reflect futures I won’t begin. Chasing the shadows, where dreams wear thin, Lost in the echoes of what could have been. Time slips away, this game I can't win, Dreams linger softly, like dust on my skin, Haunted by moments I let slip and spin. A tapestry woven from loss and from sin.