in the empty glass, a fruit fly rested
dying as i licked my drying lips
with contacts out, blurry hips
emerged out of the kitchen

empty schedule, yet over-invested
undefeated boxer, badly-bruised ribs
easy-going gambler, running out of chips
my brain began itching

i took my time to say it's over
i even waited to tell myself.
put my head in the stove or
you won't inherent my monstrous wealth.
notice the wound? please begin stitching.
this is the last cigarette, please stop bitching