I keep the tune that plays around
my head to myself, to the one listener
I know is too dumb to hear,
too silent to be told,
too unresponsive to fear critiquing,
I pass my form upon the couch
and pass out crayons,
and then pass out,

in dreams the form is faking
and in turn is color there awaking
past light and dark or blue and green
past color, and past darkening,

I wake up, head covered
in written words, "Kick Me"
"Take me home," "What happened?" 
I find the bathroom,
The soap in the mirror
stares me down
and I cannot swim
and I cannot drown.
And someone's waiting to get in,
someone is knocking
a glass has broken,
the party is ending,
someone is crying for their friend
who has left them,
for a hospital bed.
The keg is dead-------------------------------------