Charcoal Blues
I’m so beat.
I’m so hollow.
Never found me feet-
I’ll always wallow.
& I’m so stupid...
& so goddamn old.
Life ain’t worth the trouble,
striving for imaginary goals.
Yeah, I want nothing…
I want nothing anymore.
Not your hopes.
Not your notes.
Not even a roll
w/your sexy bones.
Yeah, I want nothing…
& nothing comes from charcoal.
Smoke is a treat-
this hypoxic elan
lulls me to sleep
& soon I am…
No longer sad…
no longer cold.
I took a lungful
of Binochotan charcoal.
Had one in the chamber,
but this is the way to go.
Nothing messy,
about charcoal.
You’ll thank me later,
over my unblemished corpse.
Yeah, I want nothing,
& nothing comes from charcoal.
The Shit of Adim Witt 