Sleeping On A Couch

Little beast of wood and leathers

filled with staples and not feathers

evilly do you poke and prod

torturing me as I nod

twisting me into a heap

as I struggle trying to sleep

stabbing me in the arms and back

I might sleep better on the rack

scrunched into a sideways crouch

laying on this tiny couch

Its just fine some day you’ll see

I lay on you know because you’re free

but when this passes and it will

You’ll see a fire, not a landfill

Enjoy it while you can, not letting me crash

For when it’s over, you will be ash

and when you, couch are gone

I think I will go and buy a Futon

Sleeping On A Couch

NathanielWest

New Brighton, United States

Artist's Description

A poem about the ‘joys’ of sleeping on a free couch.

Artwork Comments

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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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