A poof inside my chest
I press on my left nipple like
A button
It is five in the morning
I want nothing more than blankets
To be unconscious again
Some people like waking before everyone else
Listening to techno they can run to
I imagine a gaggle of them
Finding my body days later
They’ll follow my eyes upward
To the ceiling above my bed
Where there
Are faint smudges of white paint against blue
Like clouds
They’ll ask me if I can breathe
And with slight reluctance
I will