Blue-brown eyes
and red noise capsules
in the Ziploc bag
labeled dr. sister.
Bedside table manners
say I’m an unconscious
entertainer who will
“cut their ears off.”
Screams laugh and jaws lock—
you have no idea
how much these walls talk
—until
The snoring gets
boring
And I taste test a kill with a pillow
I
take a
pill
though
to brighten the colors
and become a
different person—
Asleep.
I laid the eggs with the pills again.
It was an angry egg
that hatches me
a worm
so I squirm across
anonymity and
inch into her open mouth
Mouth open,
spit carcinogenic—
no pen picked up
in 21 years.
Chainsmoke in the chamber
of spoken word while I’m there.
Sleep talk a smoker’s cough
and yellow the walls with addiction fraud.
The sound drowns slow
and dies with her
but the sound
of my body
lodged in her throat
says it’s hellbent
on a heaven-sent cigarette.
