Present

There is an order.
In which we enter the lift.
In which we walk to the table.
The chairs that we sit in.
The beakers that we drink from.
It is an order of disorder.
Of lives squashed in.
Dirtied up.
Misused.
Controlled.
Kicked to the ground like nothing.
Nothing.
I watch.
I know.
From both sides.
idonotbelongidonotbelongidonotbelong
But there is no exit.
The only light
The metal box on the wall they spark their cigarettes on
One at a time
One at a time
Every hour
Every thought
Burning away every part of my being
Burning away in this place
This place of safety is killing me killing me don’t think don’t think
One cigarette
Push the button
Suck up the heat
Inhale
Sit
Hit the concrete
Back and forth
Back and forth
They say to move forward you must reclaim now
It is a trick
A double hand
They hold the keys so I can take a piss brush my teeth
They superglue me to every dirty little second of the present
There is no room to imagine anything more
Anything better
Anything left of who I am.