Bedridden, Part 2

Come save me. Swallow me from this room, before she takes me instead. Three days trapped in bed, within the small confines of this room. It's enough to drive a man to madness. I like this place, but to hold me for this long, a continuous stretch, feels a struggle, too much. I contemplate the Art of Patience, and I allow myself further time to recover. A few people care enough. They come to me, contact me, love me, from different places and angles. I know they consider me, and it helps. That bed, just over there, but a few steps from where I now sit at my computer (my strength returning to me all the while), must be covered in my sweat and torment of illness, as it cushioned the blow. It made me ache, such was the aeon for which it held my body. Come save me, my muse, my darling young angel. Swim into view and take my hand, and pull me toward sleep, until I am all new once more.