moving day

you win.
you have burnt
an image of your face
on the right side of my chest,
just below my crow and heart
tattoo.

it's now
that i decide to pack some scabs,
a white flag,
all of my belongings,
and a piece of rope
in a few plastic containters
and bring them home.

another definition

i've sat here before,
more
than a million times.

i believe in everything
when this room is quiet.

i trust the dark,
just as long as there is some type of
light
that i can hold,

and sometimes that light pulls me
to places that shine
on the alphabet
of the letters
that form
the meat
and bones
of something
that i am trying
to describe.

the first saturday without a cigarette

the entire city of chicago
could be on fire again,
and the only thing
that i'd want
would be a fucking cigarette.

my cousin had a birthday party
for his one year old
today
so i decided not to show,

and inbetween the miles of procrastination
that this produced,
i still decided not to tell anyone
that i wasn't attending.

i'm odd.
i know i'm odd,
and i'm fairly certain
that my girlfriend
and everyone else i know
has
caught on to this fact.

everything,
the birthday party,
the odds
that everybody thinks
that i'm some giant weirdo
from the planet Zeetron,
and all i ever wanted
was
a fucking cigarette
to save me today.