Time Is A Grinding Wheel, Till We're Nothing But Ash

KA
he whispers, with a half smirk
because fate is a rugged charming bastard
who glows the coal-fire of a cigarette

plumes of smoke are
wishes from the ashtray
they disappear into nothing
a million molecules
blown to pieces

the same as doc, from the buck of a .380
only the wisp of smoke swirled from the hole then disappeared
the rest
a torrent
a smear
a stain
the stench of shit and bad blood
lost in time

for now he was numb
three fifths of his blood stream whiskey
she was brooding and wanting

smoke and blood
made the demand to forget
a fog
wisps of smoke
hollowed out his cranium
made a home there

so he did what he did best
paid with everything he had
to forget everything he was