the insides of my cheeks and mouth are filled with claw marks
from where all the thoughts have tried to evacuate
and as the fire alarms ring loudly in my skull,
i keep reminding myself that it's only a drill
and that the flames haven't started burning here, yet


my spine
is lined
with geraniums and hydrangeas,
but the paintings i have created
from their petals
haven't been hung on the motel wall,
and i'm starting to wonder if you really even liked them at all

how many drinks is this, now?
who knows? long ago, i lost count
i was too busy knocking over street signs
and swerving toward your headlights

the dripping
dripping
d
  r
  i
p
p
i
n
  g

of my leaky, old faucet
is soaking my mind

reminding me of the filth on the other side of this wall
of the failures i've accumulated,
and kept as souvenirs,
sitting on my shelf collecting dust
for years and years
my name etched into the base of each trophy
dated to mark the occasion
of everything i've ever ****** up