cigarette ashes
fly on the wind,
as i stare at my black coffee,
it gazes back at me.
black sobranie,
and i debate;
of all the people,
i find it hard to see
is there something
worth seeking.
just like dust,
i let them go
i never looked back
let them think i'm bore.
you may be
a world unseen,
yet i am so tired
no words flow well enough.
i'll just go lose myself
in paint and doubt
while i stare at my coffee,
and flit around.