Veins/Dog's Eyes

And I awake on a couch in a place not home,
A night ending in the morning means dreams till the afternoon,
They all sleep while tempting thoughts race through my head,
Hidden from all except the house’s dog who, with her smoky eyes,
Can see right into my mind and past the façade of my facial features;
She growls, smelling the shame.

And I lose yet again in someone else’s house,
A civil war that never ceases but continues to wage twenty four hours a day;
She occupies my mind’s mantel, her beauty enough to make me crack,
Succumbing to the temptation of apparent solitude,
Even though this place is far from empty, its occupants just asleep,
Its dog gazing menacingly with hazy eyes.

And I run away after my atrocity, leaving without explanation,
Sprinting to beat the speed of my weakness, but failing to outrun its reach,
Stumbling onto the train, where a sit down might bring peace,
But it does not; instead I see her veins on the window panes,
Etched in the condensation, alongside the eyes of the house’s dog,
That chase me now, in the full knowledge of what I did and why I ran.

And I continue to run, back out the doors from which I came,
As my eyes taunt me even more in the rainy sun, seeing veins and dog’s eyes in the drops,
Carved on every wall, drawn on every face, with howls and yells of ecstasy piercing my drums;
I try to take stairs four steps at a time but end up tripping,
Busting my nose off the mocking concrete, now smeared with blood,
Which also drips all over my clothes.

And there is blood on my jersey now.
And I see veins and the dog’s eyes there too.