There’s nothing left
but this feeling
entropy and emptiness
and a scholarly sense
of collapsibility.

Ashes drifting,
penetrating,
my eyes soar and cold
beneath a haze of
red, relinquishing ions.

Magnetized, sensible,
I crawl across the floor,
understated, understood,
with a hint
of indifference in
my smile.

Eyes, my darling,
mean everything: a world!

Complete with blood and
cigarette butts,
and the smell of leather
and shoe-polish.

We’re sinning,
cringing,
away from the sparks.

And we’ll never get the stains out.