I’m sorry, she said, I spent the entire day in bed instead. I know, it’s pathetic.   Yes, I said. And no. I mean, I understand.   You have an evil quilt, That’s your trouble.   It comforts and crushes you, in equal measure. You are powerless in its embrace. Each time you try to rise, It holds you down. Whispering words of failure through sweet kisses of security.   This quilt is thinner than the air, and heavier than Dostoevsky. Made of lies from politicians, the disapproving looks of strangers, and 3 measures of vitriol from the gutter press.   No wonder you couldn’t make it with a quilt like that in good repair. It smothers you now, But quilts can wear out too. One day, I hope You’ll see the sunshine through.