Horrible Places

The water from these sinks is cloudy. Everyone is, Creeping around. Faucets leaking. I could have fixed everything. Horrible places like this one. Horrible places. When I wake up. There are more. Every speck of light out there? From headlights to storefronts. Close my eyes and see map dots. I could be in a worse place. The faucets are leaky in here. They told me it’s fine. Dripping drool in my sleep. When I wake up? I wish I could sometimes. It’s cold in here. My breath is more breathless than usual. As if there’s no sleep left in the world. She handed me a cup and a handful of pills. Sleep, or don’t. She shrugs. When I wake up. She’s gone. An empty cup is by my bed. The water in the showers is probably rusty. You can’t see rust in the water. But it’s in the pipes. It’s on my hands from turning the faucet on. I could have fixed everything. But all I have now is a rust shower. It’s in the pipes, and I can’t stop it now. Everyone in here is creeping around. Sluggish or floating. None of the water here is fresh or safe. I’m convinced. It makes us worse. But we drink, anyway.