An Earned Century Burns Into Silence

[shemthepenman]

Nicky boots the door like his life's despair howls above the paranoia;
I light a tear of crack that rides the saddled back of a coke can,
and I'm over that, now.
I'm a combustion engine blowing smoke, running pistons of pure sensation,
dribbling over a deep penknifed heart of a love more permanent than marker.
—Oi! You all right?
Nicky's his own narcotic, so he can kick fuck out the door all he likes,
I'm not letting him in.
This love's not multiplying—
it's singular,
selfish,
and disconnected.