Non-Room

I sit on a tattered, black stool,
Clinging to your voice,
Encased within a clumsy
Plastic earpiece
Heavy with the smell of other
People's sweat.
I don't even need your words.
Your voice is smooth and calm
And drugs me into comfort
I am smiling at the white, white
Wall with the plaster in the
Shape of Australia.
I trace the southern coast
With my fingernails
And stick my tongue out into the pacific

Salty tears

No one blots them on to their jumper
In this narrow non-room.
Every question and answer
Pounds the four, unwashed walls
And lets me hear again my mumbled
Offerings.
This non-room is about you.
This space beneath the stairs
Is where I come to regain my sanity, myself.
This non-room is where Kim and Jamie
Sleep naked on a tangle of vodka and weed
Fools for love
This narrow non-room is about feeding
Non-relationships with non-real
Feelings for non-real people
Like me?
Like them?
Like us?