Room 117 (Pt. 2)

The ceiling is an offensive
breathy mouth of flat beige teeth.
The bed, pinned underneath,
is a platter waiting.

If I am to be eaten,
let the death be hygienic.
One giant toothbrush to
cleanse them all, and
in the brightness bind them.

photo by k shawn edgar

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3 thoughts on “Room 117 (Pt. 2)

  1. Pingback: Room 117 (Pt. 4) « Pull of the Sun

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