you sit, with your face leaned toward, and nearly into, the greasey plastic take out container on your lap.
the contents of which currently are:
two chicken bone legs
a chicken breast bone
the gnawed end of a chicken wing bone
and thin swipes of mashed potatoes.
A beige ceramic mug
next to your left knee
on the green painted wood floor
steams with dark dark coffee
just brewed.
You chew.
a fleck of chicken skin on your lower lip, near the corner.
you chew just enough, till you can swallow the ball of meat
just enough so it can slide down your esophagus. just enough.
you scald your mouth with the coffee,
chasing all traces of the
overcooked underseasoned grey meat.
you need to clip your nails. they are too long.
you need to change your pants, the crotch smells, and the thighs.
you need to charge your phone.
you need to shower and shave and brush your teeth.
you need to call your mother again
you need to get a job a good job a great job a job that does not leave you dead tired and dead eyed and dead dead. a job that will lift you up and ply you with bills upon bills upon bills of money so that you can pay down bills upon bills upon bills of debt. a job that will change your life into the magical story it was meant to be and you its unlikely but well deserving hero.
yes yes a job.
you drink more coffee.
your tongue burns.
the roof of your mouth.
tommorow morning's juice will sting,
your lips too.
you could sleep now. you could tumble forward
greasy head into greasy plastic takeout container
and pass out right here on the green painted wood floor.
you could.
even with the coffee in you now
mixing with the meat and the potatoes
mixing with the wine
and beer
and vodka drinks
and snacks-all free
consumed earlier at the
art opening
the pineapple pieces
the humus on pita
the fancy meats and cheeses piled high on a napkin and
sucked in quickly between glasses of wine in the corner
back turned all traces of drink and food
wiped quickly away on a
small
white
square
paper
cocktail
napkin.
you knock the coffee over
it flows out
into the shape of an island
then bigger
a continent
outside a distant jack hammer
mimics the sound of a wheezing
and unstarting car.
you take off your two day
dirty socks
and throw them at the continent
you tip the plastic container over.
you bend forward and vomit
it all
all of it
everything of it
the chicken
the gnawed bone bits
the potatoes
cheese
crackers
hummus
wine
beer
vodka
coffee
in that order
a spectrum
a food spectrum
it wretches
once
twice
three times
out of you.
after
with the mess
of coffee
vomit
and socks infront of you.
after. you touch your face
and it is wet
the jack hammer wheezes, car like.
the contents of which currently are:
two chicken bone legs
a chicken breast bone
the gnawed end of a chicken wing bone
and thin swipes of mashed potatoes.
A beige ceramic mug
next to your left knee
on the green painted wood floor
steams with dark dark coffee
just brewed.
You chew.
a fleck of chicken skin on your lower lip, near the corner.
you chew just enough, till you can swallow the ball of meat
just enough so it can slide down your esophagus. just enough.
you scald your mouth with the coffee,
chasing all traces of the
overcooked underseasoned grey meat.
you need to clip your nails. they are too long.
you need to change your pants, the crotch smells, and the thighs.
you need to charge your phone.
you need to shower and shave and brush your teeth.
you need to call your mother again
you need to get a job a good job a great job a job that does not leave you dead tired and dead eyed and dead dead. a job that will lift you up and ply you with bills upon bills upon bills of money so that you can pay down bills upon bills upon bills of debt. a job that will change your life into the magical story it was meant to be and you its unlikely but well deserving hero.
yes yes a job.
you drink more coffee.
your tongue burns.
the roof of your mouth.
tommorow morning's juice will sting,
your lips too.
you could sleep now. you could tumble forward
greasy head into greasy plastic takeout container
and pass out right here on the green painted wood floor.
you could.
even with the coffee in you now
mixing with the meat and the potatoes
mixing with the wine
and beer
and vodka drinks
and snacks-all free
consumed earlier at the
art opening
the pineapple pieces
the humus on pita
the fancy meats and cheeses piled high on a napkin and
sucked in quickly between glasses of wine in the corner
back turned all traces of drink and food
wiped quickly away on a
small
white
square
paper
cocktail
napkin.
you knock the coffee over
it flows out
into the shape of an island
then bigger
a continent
outside a distant jack hammer
mimics the sound of a wheezing
and unstarting car.
you take off your two day
dirty socks
and throw them at the continent
you tip the plastic container over.
you bend forward and vomit
it all
all of it
everything of it
the chicken
the gnawed bone bits
the potatoes
cheese
crackers
hummus
wine
beer
vodka
coffee
in that order
a spectrum
a food spectrum
it wretches
once
twice
three times
out of you.
after
with the mess
of coffee
vomit
and socks infront of you.
after. you touch your face
and it is wet
the jack hammer wheezes, car like.
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