my heart’s an old motel room
all filthy carpets
and no hot water
no fresh towels
to dry yourself
from tears that won’t roll over
like i do in bed
when the sun kisses the earth
i surrender
to 9 to 5 lovers
that kiss my cold corpse
my eyes at ceiling fans
my body in hands
that don’t belong to You
rolling in sheets
rolling papers
the smoke between my fingers
is it the night mist?
or the cigarette silk worms?
I exhale between make believe
love making
the rain raps at the window
asks me why i’m in hands
hands that don’t belong to You
but i can’t roll over
so i wait for tomorrow
to come back down
and start again