The walls around me are covered in lead paint
“just don’t chew on them and you’ll be fine”
that was three weeks ago and I haven’t died yet
but these walls and this paint are making me tougher
I see faces in these walls
the faces of all the tough people I’ve ever met in this world
the ones that have changed because of all the bad they’ve seen
and brought home with them
these faces are changing me
and sometimes I want to tear down the walls and begin shoveling the
splintered wood chips into my mouth
eating all the toughness in the world
and I’d top it all off if a cigarette out on the balcony in the rain
“****, being tough will make you ill”