His breath is lit cigarettes. He doesn’t know the bitch beside him. His head spins sins and he has no sheets and no box spring on the mattress that just shits on the unfinished floorboards.
Holes in his Hanes. Frayed seams. Seems ‘fraid.
Pale legs swim with black kinks clog his drain sink. He melts in showers. His skin smoulders. Hunched shoulders. Failed shoulds. Failed woulds. Fuming wounds.
The air is empty. The air is cold.
His nails grow. Too long. Baked with dirt. Frayed. ‘fraid.
