this dirty room

i look at the ceiling
so i don’t have to stare
at the dried spots of urine
speckling the ceramic tiles
sparkling in the tubercular fluorescent light
like the crystals in cat litter

i look at the ceiling
so i don’t have to risk
my eyes stealing a glance
at the ape next to me
milking his manhood

it’s like driving down a two-lane highway:
once you get the idea in your head
that you could turn the wheel
ever so slightly
and cleanly detach your brainstem in the collision

you can’t get it out

it’s like standing on top of a skyscraper:
you can so easily picture yourself
hurdling the short safety rail
and plummeting headfirst to the street below

it’s hard to keep yourself jumping

we are all slaves
to our inbred instincts
just like the lemmings

i fix my eyes on the ceiling
so i don’t have to imagine
the billions of dicks
nasty, brutish, and short
just like mine
relieving themselves
in this dirty room