Postcard From Hell (Xiv)

I awoke in a kitchen on a pillow of aprons; my body covered with bruises from a mob of angry patrons. Then I came to in my bed with all my ex-lovers and their menstrual blood absorbed by my covers. Then I was asleep on the freeway, alone in the carpool lane; drove off a bridge in California and woke up underwater in Maine. Then I was alive in a coffin snuggled with a teddy bear – a knocking at my door, but I pretended I wasn’t there. Then I was back to the mirror engraving my eyes with glass; as the lights went out, my ears started to laugh. Then I was shivering on a pier with a needle in my arm, and my intestines unraveling like a ball of yarn. Then I was behind steel bars - opposite a prison guard; telling him your address, and handing him a postcard.