my room smells like stale cigarettes
a bunch of wilted flowers on my bedside
and so i lay them over your grave
in the cemetery where my thoughts go to die
the lazy afternoon ***** with jim morrison
and pete townsend watching us from the walls
jars of ***** collecting in my closet because
im still throwing up the milk i ****** from you
when i was still a child and you were a man
when you took your coffee black
and mine was almost white in comparison