imbroglio

The ceiling is calm and repetitive like clouds, where I try to discover patterns and shapes. But I cannot find any I like. Cottage-cheese ceilings, that's what they call them, I think as I stare up from my bed. In bed no one can touch me, making it the only time I don't have to handle responsibilities and deal with the hidden imbroglio of life. I stare at the ceiling at this relief, the hills create shadows from the ceiling fan light because I'm too lazy to turn it off. Leave my comfort zone? Never I say. I will lie here until the next time I wake up, real mountains have become my sky and the walls of my room disappear.