I slept in
this morning.
Eleven o'clock.
Bright red
soda can tabs,
empty bottles
on my dresser.
I lose control again.
Vases sit
on floors
and shelves.
Dying flowers
drooping
in the smoke-filled
rooms
of smoke-filled
minds.
Close to
the exit door,
I make a left
turn, and walk
on Wednesday's
sidewalks.
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