Finding My Veils

First I am going to die
inside the tavern inside the chest
but tightness is not an emotion anymore (but it can be a state)

Then I am going to sleep
not because of death but in avoidance
of now (not tomorrow) and of course the fingernails grow even then

Next it is time for washing
the skin slinks like a corner in this unplanned city
where only soap did not begin in endings (where did these ashes come from)

Finally it is dinner
and the mind follows the stomach in reverse from full
and now I am off (with a Persian) for old wine and streets unfiltered

Now it is finally next
then first I am going not because the ice lengthens by seperation
caused if these moments begin to crease we are all going on to die