social butterfly

A corner and i
Sit. Fevered, bent
Oer white sheet,
Rocking.
The lamplight
Gleams yellow, coils
And floats
Up among the charmed
Air.
If i had a glass of
Icy cold
Water, i would
Insert IV drip and float
Berg-style out of the
Window into the
Gusty grey evening.
I try to ignore voices from
The other room,
Lighters clicking-
DON'T SAY MY NAME,
I DON'T WANT TO TALK.