i lit my next cigarette
off of the dying butt
of my last every one
is the last one
i tell the ladies
whereing too much
made up

i chase my shadow
in a loop a gerbil
on a wheel
about to be stuffed
into the ass end of
a bitterly dejected
universe

it’s just so disappointing
this disjointed feeling of
pinpoint redaction
as the smoke leaves
a la brea tarpit of wishes
to fester on the walls of
starving lungs