Dorm Rooms

A Poem by Drake Hyman

Welcome to the batcave,

The putrescent uncirculated alcove of rest.

You may hear a transvestite wailing melancholy songs of past loves and longings in the distance,

But pay no heed, it's the invisible type.

Down in the batcave, a murky green cloud of translucent glowing ribbons streams seamlessly amidst space,

How forboding.

How fortuitous.

The boys lie crmpled and rolled up in the basement of the batcave. There they and the angelic demon sleep,

at least until reawakened to continue their begrudging existence of advertisement

"that practically bloody characterizes all of us" the demon remarks

I have not taken a drive or drank coffee with him in a while, and that irresistible buzzing in my ears and the pride that so readily shears all those happy, happy half-years,

Has now frankly been quite neglected lately

Come to think of it,

So has ol' blue metal

What a friend he was last summer,

The summer the economy turned bad and all our minds fogged up a bit more excessively than usual,

But oh well, it was time for the subterfuge to commence and the brain lobotomies to be conducted.

What little we all knew,

We all knew so little

Past, Something, and Future

Ol' Blue Metal was there though,

He'd walk right in while you were working, it didn't matter where you were, he'd just sit you down and tell you to shut the hell up, which you would or else...

But then he'd just somehow remove all the noise from the world. In an instant it was gone. That's when I met so many friends during the night. Ol' Thom, Jonny and the other guys used to come out, and I'd see Jim a lot, his hair was crazy

But then once we all listened to some music and began to fall asleep, we listened

We listened for voices...

Sometimes they didn't come, sometimes they wouldn't shut up,

But tonight it was different.

Tonight they had been gone for a long time away at school, some at war.

We could only listen to what they would say, and hope we survived.

So we listened...

And listened..............