Stagnancy

With sunlight dripping
onto this fading couch,    
washing the dizzying pattern
I’ve become so used to…

Once more, I fail to act–
I fail to engage.

I’m spewing in the rays,
but, closer to stagnant water
filling a murky pond.  
  
Motions feel heavy,
thoughts– slow, clumsy
and failing to flow.

Washed by my water
I’m colored by dullness,
corroded to flatness.

I’m growing dry,
evaporating along with
the pattern of my couch.