I teetered to the right 
and then to the left in bed; 
my bladder again. 
I got up, finally, 
out of my little blanket, 
as my fan swung across the room. 
The fan had a mood  
of its own; personality. 
It was another individual  
in that room. I wasn’t alone. 
He felt more human, at least, 
than a lot of them who 
had been at the place. 
 
I got in the washroom 
and sat on the seat, 
Eyes wide shut, 
My body fully 
losing control. 
 
*THUMP* *THU-THUMP*
I woke. 
It was the AC on a timer. 
I pulled my ragged body up, 
and its clothes. 
It reeked of sweat,  
and of the other things 
you would find hanging  
in a place like that. 
I turned the tap on 
and spit in the sink. 
I turned it off. 
It reeked of me. 
 
Everything around me 
was there only to play 
on my eyes. 
Tiles to my sides with no walls. 
The floor I stood on ready to 
break. 
The sink I leaned on; void, pale. 
Only the mirror wasn’t a con, 
and its image. 
 
I looked at my reflection- 
into bloodshot eyes, 
puffy face sagging down, 
and the stuffed nose, 
as a sore throat 
pressed in. 
I wondered how they held up 
because inside, their bearer 
had lost it a long time ago. 
 
Walking out, I turned the lights off, 
And the AC on, and ticked 
its 30-minute timebomb. 
 
The supererogatory fan 
swung across and 
fixated on my listless figure, 
as I crawled in and went back  
to bed. 
Fixating on me again, 
Its blades just kept on rotating 
and circling, 
hypnotizing. 
I looked dead into it just as 
It looked dead into me. 
It didn’t swing anymore. 
Only rotated,  
 
circled, 
 
hypnotized. 
 
*THUMP* *THU-THUMP*