The lights are out again
And no one’s home to strike the match
Roused from a half state of sleep
I drag my feet through the dark halls
with tepid steps, a traditional
Sort of homage to the ritual –
This path is too familiar for me to stumble upon.
The borborygmus that woke me from peace
Gurgles now from my core like a devilish gremlin
Hungry for my share of the sandman’s offering
As I resign to the throne of my late night despair
And await his bellowing haunt’s begin.
Yesterday regurgitates first in mellow hues,
Recalling once-polite snacks fed to me by others
With newfound suspicion of poison or deceit
Lining platters dressed as silver,
While tomorrow curdles ahead of its time,
And I begin to fear nutrition as it were a disease,
Abdicating health’s priority for the pleasures
Of a masochistic dripping of my innards,
Turning over warm dreams for cold water.
I reach out into empty air
And find no other recourse but to wait for dawn
To dry the shit-caked walls of this stall
And let me see my way back out.