Immobile

It was three days ago
when I realized the power
of passion
& counting cigarettes—

touching around my neck
you found the spot
that takes away guilt,

but when I rest
as one of the dead
it seeps out of my pores
like bile or a mixture found

only in the ghosts of relationships.

These are the dying days—

the sun is slowly
changing positions

& once winter comes
I'll be wrapped in bed
like a mummy

still alive.