Staring at the wall,
As walls stare at me.
I interpret the tiles.
Music, crowds and glasses
Shatter somewhere in my skull.
Spitting, to remove remains of some
Just-beer-drowned pet
Decaying in my mouth,
I chuckle anyway, I’ve seen them
All before.
A cigarette in one hand,
In the other, limp leftovers
Of an anonymous circumciser.
Smoke curls towards the ceiling,
Piss dripping on my shoe,
A functional flick of wrists
Puts them both out.
Then, a shiver from my tailbone
To my chin
Says something is still alive,
Not necessarily well, within.
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