Squishy Ishy Lazy

I like featherbeds
In them I dream
Joyous dreams
Of sublime wishes
Of aspirations;
I want to be a painter!
But I am instead a fainter,
Me, my pillow, this bed
Is so squishy ishy ishy,
Soft; nearly velveteen!
And ripply like water
When I sink into it
Envelops me
Way past three
In the afternoon
I rise this late
(I can’t help this fate), for
My bed is sooooooooooo
Squishy Ishy Ishy!
Just like this palm
I write with
I draw with
I paint with
(Sometimes.)