The box spring devours you.
It stretches its maw and tears you to shreds
with its spiral metal teeth.
The bed sheets strangle. The comforter
does not live up to its name.
Your remains will be found in a tangle
of blankets and bloodied quilts.
The pillows sit quietly, looking
suspiciously plump and content.
Other types of beds are no better.
A cot will snap your spine in half.
A sleeping bag will smother you.
You'll be lynched by a hammock,
drown in a waterbed. No one has ever
woken up after a night on a couch.
No, the only safe place to sleep
is on the floor, with nothing more dangerous
than a slab of cardboard beneath
your tender, unprotected body.