I need to fall asleep to the thought of a pretty girl
the world is gross and doesn’t care
the TV mutilates
my vomit comes out before I can get to the toilet
it’s always time for my pills
people get out of their cars like assassins
but the pretty girl brings toasted English muffins already buttered gold to my bedside
she is something unsoiled through the sickness
and when she bends down just before I sleep to kiss me on the forehead into the dream of her beauty
she is such a divine vision
that I think I may not wake
and I’m ok with it