Today the air played at being ice,
and my mind played at being my mouth,
and my fingers played at being cigarettes
which played at being my breath.
And there was a play.
I went everywhere
but there.
Author notes
I have been drunk for two days and I can't sleep. I intended for this to be a much longer poem, but I fell asleep on my keyboard at the last line.
So I left it short. I can sleep now.
Goodnight.
is it safe?
Comments
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I know there is some logic to this lunacy. The air is brisk and very cold. I know sometimes it is so cold I can't breath. I would think you didn't talk, you lived played out your day in your mind. I know I do that a lot. When I quit smoking, I would often pretend I had a cigarette between my fingers and take a giant drag off of nothing, just my breath.....Interesting to say the least.
Kelli
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