woke up screaming from a dream.
man in a bathtub, black and white tiles all around,
like a vermeer painting.
he had a desire to die.
door was locked.
bathroom was on the second level of a populated house.
death visited him, naked and grey,
a bald man with vacuous eyes.
no clothes, no smiles,
except his eyes.
he entered the room with a dirty butter-knife.
squash guts hanging from the blade.
and a crayon,
he had a red crayon.
holding the unexpected silverware and coloring utensil
from his chest, elbows bent,
he shuffled with the teeth in his eyes glossed like pearls,
his skin, opaque.
but the man in the tub wanted death
to be lover
and then to be nothing at climax.
i was watching a film.
where was my body?
then elijah wood, on the bottom floor,
which smelled of grandmother’s deviled eggs,
shot a glare to the ceiling.
his hair slick and face decorated with thick-rimmed glasses,
like in everything is illuminated.
except at the end,
except that violent femmes song bailey played in the car
on the way to the coffee house this morning:
"always in such a huuuuuuuuuuuu-rry, hu-rry, hu-reeeeee.”
so elijah breaks into a sweaty dash for the stairs
and kicks in the white bathroom door.
like at the pinnacle of a shitty 90s pop music video,
the last verse before the chorus is played over and over
(and they may alter a line or two).
so e shoves death from the man in the tub
and death’s smile spills from his eyes to his mouth.
tub-man splashes out, his first movement.
water is disturbed/floor’s wet now.
death, hovered above e, plunges his hand inside elijah’s head,
which becomes clay,
like the dead folks in beetlejuice.
he makes a hand casting of e’s claymation face
and disappears into the vermeer floor.
the sopping man,
alone and alive,
collapses onto e’s contorted skull and frame,
uttering the first and only dialogue,