i woke up in an apartment.
my apartment, but backwards.
holes in the roof
climbing through to get into the windows above me
looking out onto concrete

painting the walls
over and over again
it never covers
it never covers

you can't cover grease
the texture always
soaks through

i know these are figments of my imagination
but I can't help being mad at people when i wake up

reality does not come as a breath of air
unless it was stale old air
less alive, less colorful
the dead don't resurrect here
and even though you hurt me in my sleep
at least i got to see you
and we laughed once

even though i was sad in my dream
at least i felt you
then i could cry in the morning
 even though i forgot you had been there

on sunday morning i woke up and i couldn't remember anything
my mind was blank from 1 o'clock on saturday
until i woke up to my headache.

it was almost a relief.