how the days end

 
 
 
laying here smoking,
thinking,
forest fires in my
head,
 
dogs bark outside,
prayers  
to God.
 
aging,
hand me down
fate,
 
dying is the
cure.
 
school gym locker rooms  
filled with young people  
never knowing  
life is a long .
suicide.
 
the chess board
empties with
en passant,
 
we are all captured  
by  
life feeding on
us
like bacteria,
 
whiskey
coloured
sadness,
 
too late,
 
too late,
 
too
late.
 
I regret I will
be not
attending  
the party this
evening,  
 
I have nothing  
new
to wear.
 
send my regards
on torn and  
weathered  
wings.