So what do you do? What
can you do? Leave the room
altogether? Crazy.
Your eyes are the wallpaper;
makes it tough, doesn’t it?
Peel them away. You call
that pain? It’s not. It’s insane.

You make it. Keep going.
Confront a lightpole. Smoke
a mythopoeic
cigarette forever.
Mark a spot with your
mysterious shoe; scratch
Hate in the sidewalk.

A man will come along
and there will be reason
enough to knife him. Sure 
enough, there comes along
a worse-than-Bogart….
There you are, smoking
the lightpole. The spot

you marked appears between
your eyes, and then becomes
a sidewalk, and the man
walks right up the sidewalk
into your room, looks at
the wallpaper, and laughs.
So what do you do? What

can you do? Kick him out?
Hell, no. You charge him rent.