writing with flame in my mouth

it was past midnight
and the room was illuminated
only by my computer screen
and the soft orange tip of my cigarette,
shedding ash it into a mostly empty pint of ben & jerry's.
decadent.
thought these things
curbed that shit.
isn't that the trade off for
early death?
maybe the trade is death for
the right to watch wisps of gray
dissolve into and out of the soft glow
of laptop light amid darkness
in perfect
solitude.
life comes in little drops.
tongue outstretched, i
squeeze my eyes shut and wait
for moments that make meaning.
litany of loss.
lost cigarette leaves
tobacco and plaque tasting like
life, at midnight.
i run into cliches like the
unexpected door jamb on six drinks.
no ice.
i slog through false epiphanies
like so many valu-pak coupons and
bills i shouldn't pay
stacked sixteen inches deep on my
desk next to durkheim and
the filter soaking up thawed cream.
i brushed my teeth before i smoked.
i'll sleep with this.