new poem

The Tripout Chamber

too nervous
to not blink
too much

sam steps in
then i step in
and by the end we are

too wasted
to find
our own feet

and

i do not see sam when

i step in
before him but
by the end my head
is spinning too fast to see

anything

to step in
is to stop
seeing what i usually see

and when

i step in again

FINALLY

i see sam
smoking
something
somewhere

behind me