Suspension-Depression (or, Four Walled Comfort)

Foamy teeth stay waiting.
Galaxy of toothpaste and water, spit
the spherical lung
of a slow breathing drain.

(The beauty of the first week in a $450 rental
at 3:15 a.m.
I called 778-bla-blah.)

And a wayward droplet hanging from
my chin
drips into the stagnant froth
(Here are the keys.)
without elegance
sending my own germ bubbles
past my eyelid.

Sudden tungsten gleam.
(It is extremely hot. Or just yellow.)
And a foresight of silent anger escaping in the
humourous everyday.

A smile (spit back in your own face).

And smile lines
punctuate the realisation:
there is extreme danger in a state of stagnant suspension where the sparks of self awareness hit nothing but a shield of quiet contentment and subdued numbness.



Hello Ryan. The drain is blocked and the toilet started leaking, but I am happy and will keep the place. Please fix it tomorrow. Night.

- Shazia Hafiz Ramji