rationed out the last of my cash

for cigarettes and ICE CREAM

fully aware that

sleeping more and more

as the daylights go on

the forces are so tempting

with the split ends in my own mind

wishing to have answers that

turn and ***** out truffles, binding

my own egotistical lot to a mirror that suffers phrases

the echoes and to do lists never made it

maybe if a pinkie was slipped inside it's eyelid

it would make sense to some disco jockey,

sit back and smoke a cigar at the end of quarantine

twenties slowly passing

time to understand that the days mostly pass the same

and sure, sure SURE that is okay

and healing as ice cream

If only I could play

in cigarette dish cans and flick wands

somewhere in this brain stew there may be a purpose to latch onto

but for now, the days are divided by cups of coffee

laying eggs in the bed and more on the kitchen table

hatching comedic comic strips that fall on dim laughter

A few frames a second

Chocolate chip cookies

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