She awakens
from a much more pleasant
reality.
Caffeine withdrawal stabs the skull
starving veins scream: “nicotine!” “nicotine!”
sunlight whispers through blinds: “squint.”
while dog digs at her face.
Dog smiles
at nothing.
Achy knees bend
stiff arms stretch
toes curl and release.
Splintery wooden floor creaks hello.
Speaks like her grandma,
like it wasn’t expecting her.
Shoulder grazes the doorway
out of the bedroom
in to the bathroom.
Greasy eyeliner gathered in creases
she didn’t know existed,
black, like the rubbery filling
that sweaty men inject
into pavement cracks.
Forehead smushes upwards and down
as she examines the face.
“this is it?”
she thinks out loud
to the mirror.
Only to the mirror.
It replies with a shrug
that’s her cue to walk.
feed the head, the veins.
give the dog a biscuit.
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