In the failing light of another day that this life has given to me
I take another drag of this cancer stick.
I can't argue with what I need
I need you
Or at least a syringe filled with the sun
Maybe a shot glass filled with one of your smiles
But I do tend to argue with myself
As much as an artist argues with what color goes where
The wind is blowing now
Against my shirt, my smoke, and everything else
I lean against it, it's all that is holding me up
I keep trying to take flight but to no avail
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem