the hotel room

my shivering body

i was - serious, and my back broke

watching a clock for too long

eating cabbage in a tin cup, nasty

feeling the weight of a call - from my sunken mind.

perched on a couch letting the television kill

like anything killing me, i enjoyed it. and hate it

rubbing my arms to scratch out a white hair

: toilet paper in the kitchen 'make yourself at home'

i need a drink and a smoke, come outside with me

to the balcony.

hearing you play guitar

my shadow dancing, & i'm singing to myself

crumbs on pant legs

a brush beat for the music

when i woke up i told myself;

'not much to approach,' with my hands out

scratching my back.

'i could do dishes again but how important is that,'

and it feels like i'm in

a flytrap

A stream of work

. yeah, that's endless 

impossible to quite

possible to wait

relaxing is a devil sport, I can't ever feel okay unless

i'm doing. What shit! 

i just turn on Lou Reed

& let his heroine cool

make me feel better.

never going to be okay,

he knows

A lightning bolt dead after its moment of impact

yeah like that lightning bolt

Strike! watch out for coyotes on the road

dead flesh with eyes that still look

keeping tabs on how many 

cars drive by with the party, my garage at home

stacked with liquor bottles ready to shoot

two kids on the corner tossing a mason jar

-back and forth-

full of fire. 

all of that energy

is smoke

close my eyes for me i'm too high;

they're just stuck like this

no hospitals

just your soft hands

and if you hug me

maybe the shaking will stop too.