i have a whole room to myself.
yet, this is me crouching in one corner.
square rooms are prison cells.
they end everywhere.
can you smell the loneliness on my tired clothes?
sweat-drenched XXL Lacoste
made bed. too made to be lain in.
my mind is a gutter. all the waste gathers here.
it is a filthy, filthy place.
my memories are rats.
big ass rats gnawing into my brain.
last night was a rodent parade.