Waiting Room


I hid myself away between
bare-faced walls.  I count
minutes, seconds, hours emerge
from electric heartbeats, pulling,
playing with the slender neck
of a glass bottle with restless
eyes, waiting for something
to break.


I hide myself away under
mint-and-lemon covers
watching my own blinking
plucking at last weeks' blisters.
I tell myself stories to cry
for lack of other feeling
and wait to drown away
the waiting room.


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