exspression sometimes the binary conclusion,
the concave mass of what my eyes have seen or have yet to see or what they used to see
the abscence of your body between the sheets lying next to me,
leaves me memories and faint reminders of scent carried by air
decaying leaves on the wind,
tommy hillfiger perfume,
smoke all and any kinds of smoke,
the smell of oil paints and the taste of latex,
****,
plastic,
floor tiles,
stardust,  
a shot of ***** you took and held in your mouth just to spit it down my throat.
blue smoke rings,
burnt holes in every piece of fabric i own
down the  alley
later down the alley