Portrait of a Roommate

Portrait of a Roommate
I hear through dreams and I smell the smoke.
I find Tomorrow sitting on the couch,
ashes between his fingers, beer can empty,
telling me he forgot to go outside,
complaining of a headache and the bright lights,
the ones shining in the open corridor.
But he won’t go to bed when I tell him to.
No, he just watches sports on TV
though he isn’t paying attention, not even thinking.
Inside him is an emptiness that smells
of abandon, of hidden rage beneath the blank face.
I return to my room and turn off the switch again.
I want to sleep, but I turn to the wall too often,
imagining I can move in with Yesterday.

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Well some of you may know that I have a roommate that smokes and it drives me up the wall. So last night this scene basically happened, with some minor changes here and there for poetic effect, naturally. And yet, I decided to myself that the whole thing could be symbolic for someone who's immediate future doesn't look very good or is worrisome. Such is not my case, I like the looks of my future a lot, most of the time in most areas, but there's a lot of people, I think, that are having trouble. Like Tomorrow is some terrible that they can barely face, let alone stand up against. That's sort of what I was thinking while writing this, hence the inclusion of Tomorrow and Yesterday, here. Anyway, I had fun with it. Hope you enjoy it too.