Wednesday

bamboo sheets breath

inhaling my unwashed scent

garments scattered on the bedroom floor

dropped at random, pile on pile

but I have been wearing these clothes

for a week I guess, how would one know?

explorers have crossed mountain ranges

sailed to the ice limit, they should try to

overcome the journey to my shower

with its perfumed soap and scalding water

while the kitchen garbage can hosts

a spoiled party of fruit flies

smelling salts, could they wake me?

when I can't taste the peat bogs in a

sip of scotch

dinner left at the door with clear instructions - do not knock

or ring the bell

my definition of better - a to-do

list on an index card - clean the ghost

town with hair and dust tumbleweeds

rolling down the hall, curse it all

I swallow my Pristiq and Lamotragine

I can try again tomorrow