love vs abstinence

i make music on the frigid steel with my sandy feet that havent been shoed for days.
the clock is my metronome

you could at least pretend to give a shit about my condition

eveything blares the name of its distributor
from Dell to Kimberly Clark.

there is a plastic case of magazines
muse, parents and the invisible moose by dennis haseley
illustrated by steven kellogg.
everyone should have something to pass the ticking

the room is cream and blue colored, predictable and drab
to blend in with the nausea and inflammation

the pink scrubs are disturbing and i wouldnt mind waiting longer
simply to keep that rash from being around

my legs are unshaven and i feel a little embarrassed
i smell of hard work and no antiperspirant
and have forgotten that somehow this is abnormal

toilet seats need covers
and coffees come in containers we'll just continue to pile onto landfills

who am i to complain? -- I need my Orange Juice in the morning and although Tropicana is relatively local
its in a waxed carton that I cannot burn to keep me warm

I like driving when I need a break
and dont have no veg-oil chompin' diesel tank

I am still waiting as the hand continues to cycle
i might as well pick my nose in the privacy

the doctor's wooden cross thumps against his heart
and he shakes his head when I answer yes to having sexual relations
and am not married
"if you hang one hundred condoms from a laundry line, twenty of them will leak, kiddo"
he scrubs his hands when he is done with me

"we'll have you out of here in no time, kiddo"

p.s. it's out