don’t

littering the ashtray

the smoke runs high

scattered thoughts

lost days

looking

searching

don’t break the glass

those walls are too thin

don’t mess with the heat

the room is already warm

the dishes lay on the floor

pieces of China won’t fall back to place

don’t use the gold paint

it won’t glue me back

at the window, I gaze

the night is dark

the night is cold

the knife lays on the ground outside

littering the ashtray

the smoke runs high

scattered thoughts

lost months

too many months

the head hurts bad

don’t litter

you’re making a mess

the wounds on my arms

they run deep

the knife was sharp

the heart was warm

now it lays outside

rusting in the cold

and so does the knife

don’t litter the ashtray

the smoke is too high

it clouds my vision

it sinks in my clothes

the words once whispered

no smoke without fire, child

no blood

without a working pump

so open a window

and make it wide

hush and wait

until it clears

too much smoke in your veins, child

too much of it to take

hush now

hush

.