The nicotine stained walls
Bear witness
But no one else.
The windows covered with sheer,
Silky curtains
Not intended
For the rough skin I wear
They soak in the yellow
Of the cigarette burning
In this ashtray by my elbow
Ashes drift carelessly
As I flick them mindlessly
Swimming in the words of a song
That says all that I can’t
My pills nearby
I hold a beer – it’s my third
I know it’s wrong
It’s also reactive.
It’s like a pitchfork
Jamming into me
I don’t bleed, no….
I simply compound this pain
That I feel entitled to.
With each beer,
That entitlement strengthens
Eventually the beer and the song
They’re not enough.
The smoke goes out.
It’s just me and the dark
And the lonely
And the entitlement
And a razor blade.
