Lying in bed,

licking the roof of my

mouth

 

It’s a dull taste,

not lifeless, not foul,

not sick 

 

Just dull 

 

The quiet night

I’ve been waiting for

 

Not a great time to die,

but it may be a good one

 

Nobody is right

about anything 

 

Nobody has really even

come close

 

 

Can’t say everyone’s wrong though, 

because that’s not true either

 

 

The light's being snuffed,

and there's not much thinking left

to do

 

 

I just wish

I remembered 

 

what this poem 

was going to be about