nap.

my throat hurts as i smoked a pack
leaving me half-dry and half-decomposed.

i can taste hash in my lips and remind myself
of enduring poetry describing how you are.

i think of your face
i outlasted myself not sleeping
and stumbling with contagious memories.

music comes across like salve
since then i learned to stroll
down on a pathetic dog's territory
not whimpering nor sobbing
but that adjacent like being hit by bird droppings.

i lack so much sleep
but the perseverance breathes me like muffler smoke
and the implosion
i hear it all the time
does it try to make sense?

all i hear is that its a friday weekend
and loneliness pays off for a good nap.
let me see a mirror without my image
and keep that in mind
maybe so should you