Hey, Pixie

Showered after work, day’s almost over.

I look to the light, on and off it goes,

Flickering alone, sure to die real soon.

When the light goes off I’ll need to go doze.

Dried up after shower, day’s almost gone.

I look to my door, it’s gone; just a wall.

I don’t feel too trapped, my bed is so

Inviting. It’s fine, I know I gave my all.

There’s people in my bedroom, trapped with me.

A passerby, a ghost, I am not here.

They talk too much, so loud, but don’t say much.

A headache in my stomach born of fear.

And in a crowded bed I feel alone,

An orgy of overwhelming voices.

Jealous of the wailing cries, jealous of

All that isn’t me. All my wrong choices.

And after sleeping with regret I’ll bathe

Again with envy and her friends, the moon

Will watch over my sins with care, and I

The whore of solitude, go home past noon.