Restroom Chirography

The smell of piss burned the inside of my nose
In small vibrating stings,
Like I had inhaled dancing bees -
All yellow and in perfect synchronicity.

I searched the walls for a blank space,
Somewhere that it would not be disturbed,
But merely enjoyed for all time,
Free of tmesis and further amendment.

Finding such a place, high in the corner
Between cobweb and limerick,
I put one foot upon the lip of the toilet bowl
And reached upwards with my marker in hand.

Suddenly I was twelve years old again-
I was climbing a broad oak tree in my grandmothers front yard-
Holding my pocket knife, I searched for a wide knot
On which to inscribe my message for the ages.

The smell of sap and soft green flesh
is now a noxious mixture of mind altering substance and excretion.

The branch I once braced myself against
Has unceremoniously become a condom machine.

The red stains that once were my blood,
After I slipped halfway through your name and nipped my finger,
Are now dark black and eternal.

The message that I once carved,
Soft and sweet, with its certain 1890’s charm,
Is now anything but
And slightly obscured by a crude sketch of our commander and chief.

Drunkenly my footing slips for a moment
And I splash piss all over my pant leg.

~glim