Top Floor

I live above everyone's head
lives that are lived under my feet
A room that's awake while everyone's
asleep.

A loud quiet room begins to talk
It talks through the clock
cries  from the dripping faucet
and breathes from the air vents.

The ash tray shows, how long
I've been in this room.
Thirty days, not an hour, not a minute,
or a second of sleep.

Welcome on the floor,but no
visitors to come by, a quiet
distress not to be heard, a
deadly dose puts me at rest.