clammy cold wood tainted with remnants of old paint (which i'll eventually have to scrape) kissing feet. heater humming, hummingbird, hummingbird hisses. honey bottle on the pearl colored counter. holding this cup of hot tea, slipping from esophagus into a hollow belly coffin of hunger. filling shaky flesh with warm steam. quilt covered quivering bodies, broken strings tickling tenderly. drawing heavy breaths of cosmos into being. starry speckled sky flooding tired eyes. drifting into a loony moon mind soup. pen pulsing sluggishly. watching wearily through foggy second story windows as a muddied booted guy walks down the ally. head hanging in the dank air, sobbing or stoned. wind whispering sweet dreams. everything will be okay, eventually. but not for now. slipping from lips, gargles of "good-night," tuned to tired tongues twisting through throats. and making note--don't forget to pick up your fallen lashes in the morning, to wish upon, clumsily.