i have woken up in a different room before.
this is not the first time, and probably not the last.
it smells different. the scents of home, cat litter,
coffee, candles, a mystery. here, a heady odor seeps
under the doors and under the covers, where once
i might have said my prayers. a thick nothing blankets
the floor, where my friends are fast asleep, dreaming
about things they won't remember in the morning, when
they will probably wake up. most of the things i meant
to say never got said. maybe my words will leak into the
night as i sleep in someone else's bed, a different room
being one of the many worlds i will live in.