the quietest time and an
eyes-closed moment share
a bed under blankets of
piss stained matress.

if pillows could kill and
the feeling of love
disappears, what goes
here in this hole i scream
unanswered echoes into?

where are you when you're
frightened at night in the
closet the clothes come to
life and the kitchen begs that
you take out a knife to defend
against monsters, but noodles
is all that you find.

so your mind's changed and
blindly you rearrange furniture
shufflin slippers and slippin into
a comftable position cause that's
the next mission you find on the
list of those things that most
make you crazy.

like listning and waiting.
and having to sleep when
you haven't decided what
kinda dreams you prefer
watching with eyes-closed,
bones moaning and nose
knowing that underneath blankets
the smell of piss holds you captive.