Folgers on my desk.
Typing, typing,
my thoughts, prayers, dreams.
Craving pain, happiness, and words to
bellow from my soul.
Screaming for someone to catch them in the wind.
Shine down upon me.
Shower with your light.
Writing, writing
nameless faces,
from unknown forces,
of which brought this peace to me.
Marlboros on my desk,
calling out for my lungs
to embrace them.
As I wish, my thoughts once were.
Hear me NOW!
Pounding words,
revolve in my head.
Unnecessary knowledge that consumes
my intelligence.
Eating, drinking my heart,
my mind,
turns to mush.
Penciling, penciling everything down.
Pictures on my desk,
watching my every move.
Confusing it may seem,
although I find clarity,
when I reach for a cigarette and that one cup of coffee.

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