Fine Again

I'm sitting on a dingy bathroom in some motel
bleeding from one wrist
or the other,
maybe both,
but I haven't the strength to open my eyes and look
and I haven't the will to remember.
What would my lover say, if she saw me now?
Would she tell me I'm alright?
Would she say everything's going to be fine?
Everything's going to be fine again.

The toilet's got no water in it
though it is speckled from drunken expeditions
and bulimic dreams.
And if I were to look in the mirror
would that crack down the center allow me comfort?
Would it allow me to only see half my stringy hair
and only one empty eye?
And would hiding even help?
Blind compassion wants to tell me
I'm alright,
but I'm wondering
when's everything going to be fine again?

And I'm filthy.
Yes, dirtier than I've seen
-in awhile anyway-
but the water in the shower is dingy gray,
and I strip down and lean against the tile,
wondering if theres even a point to using soap
when its covered in grime.
Is there a point is washing?
Is there a point in wishing?
In wishing everything was fine again?

And in the end, I'll walk out of here
dirtier than I was when I came in;
I'll pass a tenant or two
and I'll give up thinking I'm too good for love.
I'll go back to her
so she can tell me things are alright.
And maybe (with some caffeine and a few thick bandages).
she can make me fine again.
Fine again.