slightly messed up

i’ve already put out the lights

but i must remember to go shut the drawer

and put away the scattered letters before i go to bed

letters from a woman who doesn’t want me anymore

a tight little cluster of stars

moves across the sky. ya, i’m a little high

it’s a plane flying low and i can almost hear

the sound of its dull rolling thunder if i try

it leaves the silver oak quaking its leaves aflutter

and me caressing the smooth blue lighter

which i switched for mine; a keepsake, stolen

from another woman who doesn’t want me either

there are others too, but let it be, who’s

ever gained from scratching ugly welts

or picking bloody scabs. and cutting open  
veins in neat longitudinal cuts makes little sense

they come tumbling over each other

tonight the words too disregard me

just leaving my lips like shapeless smoke

that a draught carries down the street

and as my head spins i keep seeing my picture

on this poster that says in bold brackets

a well formed human body, male

is up for sale, do you want it?