17:50

I’m tired of death

Like 16:30 in a crack house

Yellow, fading light of dusk coming

Cigarette burnt lace curtains
I’m tired of life

Lungs filled with ash and dust

Reflected life in broken windows

Diseased, unable to move 
I’m tired of staring at the ceiling

Waiting for the same damaged dawn

Pieces of dreams litter the floor

Staining the carpets with memory
I’m drowning, I don’t care

I’m at the inevitable collapse

Diluted, a dirty blocked drain

I woke here in the dirt

here in the dirt I remain

22:47

She stood there, and looked at him, with so much time that had passed between them. 

She asked; “do you ever regret us?”

“Only when I think of it.” He replied.



Cobblestones

She came in with the snow
In jeans and a pair of grey boots
At a place called cobblestones
She left in a floral blouse
In summer wearing sandals
When she walked out of my house

Do you ever think of me
When the day has come to an end
When you lay there with him
In your big fancy bed
Does my ghost haunt you
Like your specter does to me
Do my words still echo
Am I even a memory