The Smoking Man - Typings of the Mind


A salamander owns nothing
But the paper on his back

I was paused between breaths
Between the weight of paper on the page
Slid the sunrise to the sky
Sloping trees gild heavens
With heaviness of shadow.

I am forceps holding back the night
Peeling taste from food
She tastes foolishness and spits it out.
Yet I know nothing but silence
Screaming i my ears
We turned pages but the words fled from us.