Poem: Fish Across Face

5am…

the last cigarette hurts no fear of cancer, no cough, no headache

the last smoke hurts because of what it symbolises:

mind-fucked myself into thinking I’d played all cards right – figured all was in synch

instead of best-laid plans (i.e. planning the best lay) I’m alone with my stereo (I must say the only true bedroom companion I’m likely to have)

squee…