Good Morning Sunshine!

One eye opened

To take in the ceiling above

Oppressive vast white popcorn expanse

Beer caps pressed into a spiral

Similar to pins embedded

In a corkboard

Spiraling

Ad infinitum

They peter off into the distance

In semblance of my repeated habits

Health is no concern of mine

At this point in time

 

The other eye parted

As I curse the sun again

Waking to the scent of stale ethanol sweat

I light a cigarette while lying in bed

 

I can hear a conversation

In my shoe box living room

Over the repeated coughing

And the Mexican music

Bumping from the apartment next door

While the grey blue smoke coils

Gently in mid air

Dancing for my

Inebriated imagination

 

Someone knocks on my door

But I don’t care to answer

I lay and stare cigarette held between teeth

 

The smoke and the ash

Rising and falling simultaneously

Bringing a bright moment of pain

In connection to contact with skin

The sputtering lines gently

Consumed through brief immolation

 

Before I know it the filter catches

And the tobacco’s all gone

So I have to get up

Though I don’t know the time

And find out who’s on my couch

 

The smoke is ditched

In the urine filled toilet

Butterfly knife resting on the tank

As laughter finds its way down the hall

 

There’s a hole in the ceiling above the shower

And the carpets all stained

My mattress on the floor is half buried in clothes

All my movies are stolen

Not from me but by me

 

Does it really matter who’s out there

Smoking my drugs

They always leave more on the tray when they leave

It could be the roommate

It could be my brother

It could be my lover

 

Or it may be the sadist missing one tooth

An aging addict corrupting the youth

It could be the neighbors

Still looking for sex

Or a million odd faces

Who all know my name

Doesn’t really matter what day it is

They all start the same

12/29/2012

0314

Reviews

[.]

The detailing is absolutely incredible! The images are a bit scary but fascinating too. I think I would blame reality for not being beautiful enough. Maybe at some point in time life became such a heavy experience that any kind of "unreal" experience seemed easier and might I add--more liberating too.