sick day

i have been losing the fight against gravity for several days now,
magnetized to the iron in my bed frame
chasing sleep, who wants nothing to do with me.
words circle my head
recycled, repetitive, a fountain of unoriginal thought,
a special kind of hell

a friend told me i should be moving on
where "moving on" = dating again
i fail to see the forward motion implied in
entering another binding relationship
when it was specifically the bondage that drove me from my previous one

why is coupling considered progress?
what is progress in life, anyway?
we talk as if there are correct, known vectors, when really there is only
aging, which happens no matter what i choose to do.

i seem to be moving side to side
not aiming towards any direction, but paddling furiously to simply stay
afloat.