PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

i smoked three cigarettes,
popped half a dozen aspirin
and decided to write about it.
my stomach lurches as the room
spins drunkenly mad.
my jaw feels like
eggshellstossed
from the eiffel tower.
i scream!
(quietly)
from the reserved hollow
of my integrity
all the while counting
till a friend calls,
saying,

“i have bone cancer.”
clouds of smoke trail
from my parted lips,
growing like mold
speckled on chipped paint,
waiting to be cultivated
into a cancer of my own.
i look at the guitar
i never learned how to play
and wish there was more music,
or a better muse than depression;
but it does no good
to wish on falling stars,
they’re only particles
caught in the atmosphere,
after all.