A Dangerous Dinner Table

// An emotional chew-toy.
The fire-exit stairwell won’t be an escape
From everything.
Sit there
With the white of your mind
Resting in the basin of your hands.
It was more a shut down
Than any kind of sleep.
A space-age time-travel from
One clock point to another.
No dreams. Just vacuity.
The dumb walk of a hangover.
Rusted coat-hanger skin.
The restlessness of
Two surfaces unsuited.
Like sand in beds.
Like marbles on glass.
You remember that hotel guilt
Of crisp folded sheets
Feeling too distant from reality.
Shaving in the reflection of a fridge is a clean shame.
The crispness not enough
To correct the misalignment of
Pigments and veins. //