pale porch light illuminates the small old wicker chair on the verge of breaking it already leaves paint chips everywhere but you can't bring yourself to throw it out you sit with a smoke in your mouth and your glass jar and the moon shines strong enough to light up the whole town and you don't mind because this is what you are used to the old wicker chair the bright cigarette that your girlfriend gets mad at you for but still kisses you with a cough the foggy mason jar that is filled with practically indigestible alcohol but that's your life it's simple on the outside a sweet contrast it stops your ever spinning head for just 5 seconds and you look down your unlucky skin in the pale porch light