and the virgins are clipping their wings

the sun rises. the dreams end. the sleep falls away. i roll over. the phone doesn't ring. i get up, brush my teeth, stand in the steam and rinse away a night's rest from my body. dry off. maybe i'll get around to finally feeding myself today. the sun travels. the phone doesn't ring. no one knocks. the music swells. the tv speaks... er, law and order, TNT's "prime time in the daytime" all day long. the computer boots. quizzes, kill time, music... nothing catching or beautiful. nothing i'm allowed to listen to until it's on a cd in my car turned up loud. the sun moves. the phone doesn't ring. the door stays closed. no one knocks. the couch invites. sleep in the folds of cotton blankets. swin in them. grocery store. antioxidants and some apples. clean food. the sun sinks. the phone doesn't ring. the only meal i'll have today... a banana. mile run in the settling dusk. stand in the steam and rinse away a day of nothingness from my body. dry off. step to the scales... another day, another pound down. the sun sets in black. the phone doesn't ring. back to the bathroom. the silver shines. the skin breaks. bandaid. the washer fills. the washer washes. the dryer heats. the dryer dries. the buzzer rings. my father hasn't come home. the day ends. the head lies down. the lights go out. the phone never rings.