It's not that I haven't written.
I've been pouring my heart out onto the inside of the paper
tubes of cigarettes.
The words flow out of me
then I suck them up into my lungs,
inhaling deeply,
and they make me feel lightheaded and nauseous and sorry
for myself.
That's why it's been so hard to quit.
I'm not addicted to tobacco.
It's my own poison words that I can't
do without.
What could I do with them
besides choke?
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Idiosincracies We collect Imagining that others Need hooks on which to hang Their love for us.
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