Published April 21, 2013 by April Fox

in the dark, fumbling for the lightswitch
like a drunk still wiping whore-red lipstick
from his crotch and breathing fumes of
cigarettes and stale whiskey on the doorman as he
tries to maintain some sense of
-the light evades, exhaustion wins
the floor becomes a haven, cold and hard
unforgiving, flat black tiles cracked around the edges
pretending to give solace
in the night.

3 comments on “floor.

  • Leave a Reply

    Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

    WordPress.com Logo

    You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

    Twitter picture

    You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

    Facebook photo

    You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

    Connecting to %s

    %d bloggers like this: