every night coffin

every night coffin is my arms bound to my chest
every night coffin is holding so still
tight   tense shudder
every night coffin bones become flesh
every night coffin, the funeral dirge is the rumbling breath from the cavernous leaky lungs
every night coffin is my body
every night coffin so stiff
so hardened heart
every night i lay into a coffin made of my own bones, and muscles held so tightly so i cannot move in sleep or dream, and die, waking unconscious, stepping to regain balance before i fall
every night coffin is every night funeral
is every night
is rock hard back
is holding burdens
things you do not want to plant like seeds
or let the wind carry
every night coughing in a coffin made of two hands crossing
over
and pulling up on them bones

to stretch nowhere

and it's cold in there, wet, and i can't breath
as my heart sinks
bury myself alive

every night coffin is somewhere to be when you have nowhere to go
is
a good place to survive
in stillness
so stiff-still
the quiet stack of death

and i wake up out of breath, need coffee, emerge from coffin, having barely survived
and that is my reward for daylight
and yes so over-dramatical
but so
stiff and sore my muscles grow and become armor
to build a stronger every night coffin