i was drunk in a phone booth. my eyes were wet and red but i could not tell what was said and through the screams of the traffic voices carried saying i am sorry on a day so gray its black inside watching churches on tv. in a coma you don’t dream you just hope that someone sits with you. babies turn blue when they are ignored like the sky on summer days before you turn and walk away it has changed you. so tonight to compensate i will poison myself another coughing, shaking fit in a bathroom that is spinning.