Caught in this loop of clocks

I twist in circles looking for the right door

the flimsy locks

that keep my daddy out

are like air,

slap my pocket for reassurance,

feel the fat slap back

and want to burn it for warmth

on a rusty bike rack

having my first cig of the morning

///\\x///\\x///\\x///\\x///\\x///\\

A little twist of steel and

click goes the sanctuary and

thrash on the bed for a sleeping cycle

though perception of time makes it

more than one or two, it seemed

the room is still a blur

from lack of perception and

overstimulation and

showing up late seems less possible

than falling through

the bed