a lit cigarette burns
balanced precariously on
the rim of a cup
ashes falling listlessly
into a tiny puddle
of long-cold coffee

a bottle, a tumbler
whiskey on the rocks
the back of my throat
burns
It's six A.M. and I've
finally numbed every last
square inch of my brain

the record has been skipping
for a few minutes, I think
but I'd rather listen to
that than hear the song end
so I wait for the needle to
wear its way through the vinyl

for years, you were my only
vice, the only thing I did
wrong
but now, I'm welcoming in these
demons, to let them **** me
before this lack of you does