don’t
littering the ashtray
the smoke runs high
scattered thoughts
lost days
looking
searching
don’t break the glass
those walls are too thin
don’t mess with the heat
the room is already warm
the dishes lay on the floor
pieces of China won’t fall back to place
don’t use the gold paint
it won’t glue me back
at the window, I gaze
the night is dark
the night is cold
the knife lays on the ground outside
littering the ashtray
the smoke runs high
scattered thoughts
lost months
too many months
the head hurts bad
don’t litter
you’re making a mess
the wounds on my arms
they run deep
the knife was sharp
the heart was warm
now it lays outside
rusting in the cold
and so does the knife
don’t litter the ashtray
the smoke is too high
it clouds my vision
it sinks in my clothes
the words once whispered
no smoke without fire, child
no blood
without a working pump
so open a window
and make it wide
hush and wait
until it clears
too much smoke in your veins, child
too much of it to take
hush now
hush
.