at a table i sit
in an empty room

the ambient hum of myself in silence settles around as the smoke from my marlboro swirls around my fingers

fingers that ache for the impossible

the weight of my posture says more than all of tchaikovsky's musings...

as i consummate myself and dread with whiskey saved for a time just like this
shadows spin and dance and i become entranced with the spell i cast

soon the silence breaks and heaves as whiskey magic brushes a soft hand upon my cheek and fills the room with vibrant perfume

my fingers ache for the impossible

i break myself upon regret

i blink away the spell till i can see...

the ambient hum of myself in silence settles around as the cherry on my marlboro dies in the ashtray

just a moment
in an empty room