Tip the Cup

This is exhaustion, oh don’t worry, it won’t shake your hand, oh…you can’t be bothered to either?  Now that you’ve met you can loathe each other.  Don’t worry, it can all be on the surface, it can all be in secret.  You can live a double life of having a spring in your step and falling endlessly the second your head hits a pillow.  This is your life of dying.

You can study the ceiling in the morning.  Oh I know you won’t want to, but it’s an option I’m sure you’ll come to appreciate.

When things get worse you don’t wish for before, because that was always bad enough, right?  Progression is better than comfort.  Oh but there’s exhaustion, yes, that too.

The three of you in a room.  Mind, body and will.  Voices that drown you when your eyelids get heavy.  Dreams that escape you when your eyes are widest open.

This is the room you keep out of.  This is the room that cannot be crossed.  This is the room the shower soothes you in.  This is the room where guests would sit.  This is the room you’d lie together.

This life bustles on a level that cannot be sensed.  I am too big to feel anything but static, for now.