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.