First Draft

August 30, 2017

It's still January in my unchanged calendar

2:30 in my watch

A little coffee in my cup

A little ink in my pen


some pages filled

some pages empty

And some torn apart

A bit scribbled

And crumbled

And thrown away

Containing a line or two


Not good enough

Not Perfect


A sip of coffee

A puff of cigar

Tastes poison

I loathe

With an empty stomach

But, So is heart,

Eyes are desperate for sleep

I close them

To sense darkness

And borrow words

To breathe

For one last time.


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