Sniff, wince,
adjust the black hat
sticking to your damp head.
Where the **** am I?

You know, so the conversation
continues, cracking white
in a manic laughter.

Crane your head to somewhere
else, ******* aliens wrapped
in an unnervy heat,
watching you.
Where the **** am I?

Long inhale, lion’s sleepy breath
amongst the din of unfamiliar
noises - unsure if you’re fond
of the narcissist’s choice.
Who is he anyway?

Looking right to the mirror,
or an old bus window,
startled by its revelation
you crash back into the room.
What the **** was that?

Voices tickle you, unwanted
intruders wrapped in bright
blue dots, “it’ll make it better
for you guys” she says before
falling behind closed eyelids.