Cormorants

I’ll have to stop eventually. Or at least until my lungs are so full of smoke that I’m spitting out tar onto the street instead of tongue tying my tongue with my lips and my teeth. Your gums will be coffee ridden and mine will be too dark to tell apart from your tree accidents and my freshly cut off arms. Sing me a requiem so I can fall into reverie. Sing me a requiem because I’m as good as dead already