here i am

wracked like racked billiard balls

desperate to writhe out of their

triangular prison. here i am along the

elongated street light cascading

through blinds across the far white

wall. steeped in encroaching dark,

i lay still to let these thoughts ebb

from me as sleep takes hold. maybe

food. maybe meditation. maybe pills.

maybe too many pills. maybe i tell

you through the glossed medium,

maybe vaseline-smeared camera lens

portrays me amid billowing clouds

and wind whips through my hair and

you tell me i’m brave and that is a

key i use to unlock another matryoshka

until all that’s left is the teaspoon of

humanity i dole out to the cashier at

the grocery store. whisky and bagels.