Freedom Revised

She turns to me and complains of her sickness. Her body aches and now asks me to get her some water. I comply like I only know how and pour her a glass of water from the kitchen. Something grows within her and gives her the custody over who I am. I am at her mercy. She holds me by the leash and I'm cuffed with the collar at the end of that leash. She tugs a little harder and I snap back only to be hit with a rolled up newspaper. She looks at me and then falls asleep.
I fall asleep next to her but having been deprived of all blanket coverage, I hug myself and turn into a fetus. I roll up and think warm thoughts.
At night I might hit her by accident but tonight was not one of those nights. She wakes up in the morning and complains of her sickness. This sickness has not gone away and its at its third week. They say up until week twelve it becomes very unpredictable. Gone are the carefree days of wandering through the city without a reason to go home. We stroll in our modest spending spree of drinks and dance and think of ways to save up for our future. The future is now and so it becomes the present. We go through miles upon books to realize what we've been looking for no longer exist. I choose to purchase something else and remember that I'm suppose to be home. I'm a prisoner in my own home and the dreams of active freeway driving has become extinct. Here are the days of not being so wild.