Friday, December 16, 2011

disdain.

Disarray. Coffee cups with the milk souring slowly.
Ashtrays with grey soot pouring out.
The faint scent of smoke, sex and menthol pollute the air.
The light is bright and foreign.
A knock at the door is goes on ignored, and
the windows are drawn shut.
The notebook is abandoned the pen, out of ink.
There is nothing left to give.