Blessed are those who last slept here,
popping tablets and
drooley night pills.

For their crown uncommon auras,
inward sickles, biting eyes and
lips for their
ten minute observations.

I imagine their wrists and faces,
their bloody pillows like 
pillars and twice as stony
as certain nurse's faces.

Yet they still
took the time
in their trying
to write

'I love you'
on this soiled blue mattress.