Outcomes birthed from incomes, and the escapist wants nothing more than to get somewhere really real
Sick as a dog,
sheets damp and clammy from
the shiver sweats
and it seems possible
the night has itself began
to elongate
and shape shift.
Morning chock with tasks and
early worms getting birded isn’t enough
to shake free from impudent sickness
which isn’t waiting for me to traverse
the eleven steps into the soft hazy noon of the bathroom
But comes up as soon as feet hit floor
Dab dab don’t rub the slick sheen
Leftover of what has been wrought from a meal it seems ages ago having eaten
And hours or days later
still comes the sweats and shivers,
an unnursed body married to flayed ego
like soutine’s meat hanging on abased display,
but with no flaneur passing by the window or
sauntering through the white box gallery
to take me in and feed me
to my own lonesome company
Alone and unwell,
candle burning to compete with
the smell of the stain
that has effloresced
into the carpet’s fibers,
not so faint
that it can’t yet be glimpsed,
waiting for yet more morning and
what might pass for respite
from this sharp shriek of a night
which might have more flaws and
more fissures in store
but it’s hard to fathom how
