The Poetry Kit |
| Darren Anderson | |||
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Faller's Fuel
The cigarette sleeps
on jaundice pillows that patch finger's flesh. A lucky strike fag is my hour glass, tobacco ash tells the time.
My companion is a cup
of dying coffee that begs to be drank. Its day old bold bean dirt taste pastes my tired tongue brown.
I frown on this moment
when work is on the wane, and boredom is a stimulant that winds my clock to the jolting rhythm of caffeine and nicotine. |
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