The ceiling sucks you in
And the rafters wrap around
     and devour
While the daylight outside
          begins to doze.
The corners of the room
Start to accuse with silent
phrases which they toss into your mouth.

          Time to walk to the next one
          Alone.
          Single minded but softly, bluntly so.
Time to dare the world to judge you
'Cause you're forgetting; "frogs will jump...
          by request or no."

Time to stumble to the next one
     Bile summoned to your throat
Doors open and inhale you
As you think about your breathing
Far too hard and carefully.

Half heard conversations start to wrap around your neck

     Time to loosen the belt
          around your waist.

You step out for some air.
They're smoking--fancy that.

Time to fall into the next one
     When you belch it tastes like soap.
The floor springs toward the ceiling
     Drop a dollar in the cuss jar,
                                potty mouth...
And cinch your hat down tighter
     Like you hope it eats your head.

Conversations yank you to the motherfucking floor
And the rafters chew you up
          and spit what's left into your hungry hat.
The corners are done with you...
...so it's time...

So I'd like to see you try and crawl home.     (March 2011)