a poor decision.

tonight

your body lies 

on your bed,

a pillow between

your lonely legs

is all you have

for company.

listening

to the off-sync clocks

each sounding off

its own time.

you trust none:

you have your own 

time

       time

  time

is an illusion.

it is night now

because there is no light,

or perhaps you are now

blind and refuse

to acknowledge now

the fact

that you are waiting

to see something now

already past

you are

all ready.

you lie 

fallow.

i'll be here

alone with the mice.

i'll tell the poor things

you said hi.