the ashtray is full and on fire,

the sun never shines anymore these days

blackness all the time

constant

it soon brings the boredom and feelings of

isolation and laziness with it

I sit here

all day

every day

nothing to do

no one worth talking to

just me

sitting in stained blue underwear

finding comfort in ginger ale and cheap cigarettes

the ashtray is full and on fire,

box cutters and two cigarettes left

an ink pen that doesn’t write anymore

the bleeding can only come from me

spare change and a lottery ticket

that didn’t make me a millionaire

a clothespin that never held clothes

and three dollars that haven’t paid for anything yet

three pairs of scissors that may kill someone

one day but not yet,

the ashtray is full and on fire.