4:27 AM and I'm feeling grand slammed

weary bleary buzz-eyed the menu swims before me

to my left at the counter a couple does the breaststroke

to my right a dude dunks and dives into raw runny eggs

the color of sun rising sky will blossom in an hour or so

sizzle and stink of whiskey breath kisses linger in the air

as the gal slings a plate in front of me with flaccid pale sausages

black and white potatoes brunt frozen drowning in puddled grease

a maze of luminescent yuck scramble that turns me over uneasy

neon glare turns everything a queasy sickish slime green

in the lysol piss confessional I pray into poop clogged porcelain

still steaming layers of butt wipes not bothering to even try

jiggling the faulty handle's smeared shit rusted crusted glint

faucets run dry so I wipe my palms on towelettes from the floor

that's why I won't go down to the Dennys no more