9:46 Saturday, July the 14th

I want to do art with cigarette ash.

I want it drawn on the backs of those who are lost.

My embers sizzle.

I’ll draw them a map

to where they long to go.

See, here.

Don’t you see?

It’s a map of the path on the road you will take.

I write high though,

don’t you see?

My words are gibberish to those

who still bleed red.