Something like a sheet
a ribbon maybe
yeah, that's it
a wide-stretching piece of old cloth
trailing behind me and between my legs
slowly shredding it into ribbons
leaving miniscule fibres in its wake

a cheap leather passenger's seat
a garden of concrete strangers
a purple suitcase
the cold brown tiles surrounding the toilet
are all now just dreams
of course that's just bullshit
but isn't it so wonderful to pretend?

the sheet is hanging on the line to dry
but it's all stained
i will tear one last ribbon from it and tie it around my waist
to hopefully keep my pants from falling down
and avoid other such atrocities

going to the head shop now and sabrina is next to me
i feel suddenly optimistic