Night Terrors After Day Drinking

I woke at 3:22 a.m.; it was raining inside.
Or maybe I was just sweating out another bad day.

Pillow soggy and rumpled with screams, bad dreams and a
dark spot that looks like shame, I decide I need to rinse the
velociraptors, Cheshire cats and other night stalkers off my skin.

My stumble to the bathroom -- a drunken waltz;
My haphazard partner -- the welcomed cool of grimy tile.
We huddle together, the floor and I.

Spider-web pipes oscillate above my head like behemoth UFOs.
I hope they beam me up; I have work in four hours.

My spine doesn't care for the floor. Neither do my kidneys.
Stretched here I realize my face doesn't really mind.

But, I suppose if you can lie on the floor you can sit in the shower.

So, I stand in the shower because I forgot how to sit.
I turn the faucet until the steam makes my eyes swell
Until my lungs fill, until my skin bubbles and peels.
I turn the faucet and take my dollar-store sponge and scrub myself
down the drain.

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