Of Undressed Nights and Cigarettes

As a man you don’t get to live His right hairy leg, his left beneath it, dangles on the edge of the bed. Over his shoulder, he looks at her. Her eyes closed but not fully closed, she is asleep. He stares at her—her short kinky hair now freed from the blonde wig; her dry…

Stay | 3

“You look tired,” she says behind my back. I’m looking outside the window, hands in my sweat pants pockets. The night is still, star bright and cold. I take a deep breath and turn my head to the side, “Glad you see that. What else do you see?” Was that rude? I’m broken. She is…

Of death…

… and finally here I am; it scares me that this is the first time the word ‘final’ has lived up to its meaning. This is it, no turning back. Everything in here is at its extreme: very cold, very quiet and very lonely. Are these white walls supposed to bring peace to the souls…