i wipe and look at the paper
there's smeared shit, and no blood
(there's been blood in my stool
for the past week)

well, whatever it was
it didn't kill me

to celebrate, i dig out a cigar
that's been sitting in my
pocket since the last cold
night of that last cold year

i step out on the porch and
smoke it
the air is still and there are
tiny snowflakes floating

probably the last ones for a while

the street lamp turns
them into little lights

it's quiet the whole time
except for my breath

i go back in and undress
get into bed next to my woman
wrap my arm around her rib cage
and press up against her ass

i fall asleep to the sound
of the radiator crackling
and hissing and banging
and to the sound of some
far off
barking at nothing

if it was always this easy
easy i would live forever

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

hosted by DiaryLand.com