Lying still

in the shroudlike dark

That oily substance

oozes from cracks in the walls

Concocting monsters

from the mundane

Up the corridor

flocks of nurses

chatter amongst themselves

Comparing notes before

dancing away from sleep's grasp

off to the next patient

Ballerina's on an

electric-wired floor

Reality's a bit skewed here

But the thin line

between sleep and wakefulness

cuts through the murk

A harsh white

torchlight

And I see

footprint shaped groves

worn into the floor

from endless pacing

The darkened outlines

of disgust, misery, self-loathing

etched into the walls

Deep scream-gorged ravines

criss-cross the ceiling above

All of these

unwanted momentos

Left behind by girls

just like

Me