Creaking

Sometimes, delusions are poetic.



Wood panels and carvings around the windows creak,
The chandelier trembles with the stepping of feet in the hallway.
They passed by thrice, breathing heavily, impatiently.
I'll tell you what you want to know, but you won't like it,
They smile. I feel terrible,
the puke bucket next to my bedside awaits a whisper from my stomach.

I don't want to go on like this, but....that's how this weekend is,
There's no going back after a spell of salmonella
I tried to ask them to leave, but webs kept my mouth shut,
They rummaged through my dresser drawers, pulled out my wallet and took my cash.

Good, take it. As long as you go.
You came here an empty vessel, and you leave an empty vessel.