If life were a cigar…
I’ve taken many slow drags,
Inhaled the sweet, smoky, earthy scent,
Held its warmth in my lungs,
Exhaled its smooth burn,
Watched the smoke leech through my skin,
Felt the cancer spread through,
At the cap it releases the soul left in me.
If life were a cigar…
It’s certainly going to be the death of me.

Gored by the long tusks of tomorrow
lying hungover...
head throbbing
dehydrated and exhumed

Painful memories of the night before
protrude through thoughts
like a starving artists ribcage

I am dead inside...
like a privet hedge
a green shell
with a barren rotten core

Moments of clarity
dance like carrots on strings...

Terminal lucidity
an occasional epiphany
the definition of insanity

Zoplicone zeds
for artificial dreams
early alarm clocks
robotic regimes

The fog starts to clear
music fix in the car
a sheep on autopilot
to the thought abattoir

The right mix of chemicals
in order to function
circling roundabouts
never finding the junction

Stripped ham hock heels
from ill fitting safety boots
dripping auburn sweat
inhaling metallic soot

Sickly stifling heat
zero fresh air
seeing through *******
with a Bukowski stare

Benevolent benzos
keep emotions neat
another shift ends
rinse then repeat

The unsmelled rose on the back of the bush
Is mocked by the one in the vase
But water can not replace good soil
And the unsmelled rose laughs last.

ljm