A Snow-Covered Room

Sometimes when I'm alone it snows inside.

The roof over head only holds in the clouds.

You think someone would learn to provide

something like a cloud vacuum, but not as loud.

It's cold when there's no one to lie with.

One string is a cord easily torn and broken. 

I sit on the couch with real potatoes for pith

and the food always cools and springs are pokin'.

The snow melts sometimes and I see a mess.

It runs down arm or my head or my leg.

But when it freezes again I get depressed;

for me to leave my games, you'd have to beg. 

It's hard to get out of bed covered in snow. 

The sun breaks windows and I cover my face.

If I don't look then I don't have to know. 

What I don't try and fail I can't disgrace.

Maybe one day the sun will come through. 

Sometime before I'm covered and drowned.

But what else can anybody say or do,

in a room covered with snow and frown.