words

cars on the highway,
i can hear them in the night
and i am alone,
my words become knives,
its all i can do
not to weep in the dark
before the leaves and the wind,
a solitary figure
smoking cigarettes,
scratching my burning throat,
the loneliness
covers you like a coat,
even the insects leave me here,
stray cats pursue other avenues
and conspire in their slurred thinking,
self imposed asylum,
a perfect night for drinking
and the stars have gone,
there is no one to tell
of this sad broken man
with his aching bones
and sour breath,
breathing smoke like souls in hell,
alone but for the cars
on the road.

-S.C. Martinez