gave my poetry a read.
i’m out of cigarettes,
but i am full of greed.
he sings along to tunes.
he thinks the night belongs to him,
but truly, it’s the moon’s.
and the town is quiet; dead.
i wonder just how many words
reside inside my head.
but i cannot play it well.
i may be closer to heaven,
but my lover is in hell.
Luka.