drifting
in and out
listening
to my skin
crawl
it whispers
of a million
microscopic
pains
“Grab a pen,”
it says,
“let me help you
identify
then catalog
them all.”
and somewhere on the brink of sleep
a lonely, haunted banshee
goes wailing down the hall
if it wasn’t for
these tubes
and wires
i’d raise my fingers
to wipe this flop sweat
from my face
the resident succubus
bends
to brush her lips
against my neck
then turns
her back on me
it must be her
i hear all night
wailing down the hall
was that you
who came
to visit me?
or were you
just a dream?
i can taste
your disappoint
in me
as if it were
a mint
the nurses here
are taunting me
with cigarettes
i’ll never smoke
when suddenly
it dawns on me
That every night and all along
it’s been my voice i’ve heard
wailing down
the hall
"
-
Max Mundan, Junkies Die Alone: Wailing Down the Hall
