museum

my legs
are sleeping
i'm crouched down
down down
beneath something large
maybe a couch
or a house?
i can't tell
can't speak
i'm hiding
from that semblance of events
that most folks categorize
as living.

how long can i
remain
before seeking eyes
pry
and find?
limbs atrophied
eyes sinking
i want to stay
here

it's not for lack
of creativity
or spark
whatever this is that keeps my heart
thudding along
i can't blame it on media
or genetics--
just plain old
me,
wanting to support the structure
but not be
brushed off and shined up and glass boxed and
on
display.