Stale, and green and green and green


and stale- if you're wondering- like
a sober man's last cigarette, held for years
waiting for that after-glow after
that singular pleasure even greater
than seemingly ancient guiltless stiffs

Mirthless. Stale.Green, like
I imagine skies
Gazed through
Opium den windows
Bowelish And sick and sick and
ready to die

And I know it isn't real, but
it sticks to my fingers, and
it crawls up my wrist

and

all the way up my arm and shoulder

and

To my neck and

in my eyes and

deep inside and
now it wants. it wants. it.wants. itwants
and it wants wants outit want sout



out. It wants out.

Like passengers, dire
in cars driven
by drivers
Passed out at
the wheel

Stale cigarette burning,
forgotten between his lips



The water washes us clean
But we remain stale and green

One sound man dieth and wonder whieth
One ill man passes
in beloved dream





Sometimes the world feels blatantly cruel




And sometimes I wish my fucking roommate would wash the dishes just once in a while

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