Two Tricks by Lana Bella

it is like the sickness of vanity:
each of my stirring is wired in
a storm, with the hot throb of 
sins and drips of morphine, I 
find there is never a right time 
or candid reason for contempt, 
so I drink the bottom-shelf wine,
smoke the smooth of Winston
cigarettes, caress the lithe form
of a French doxy, then slide into 
the warmth of darkness’ embrace,
until sunrise crawls up the stairs 
of my heavy eyes, while the two 
tricks of bottom edges of nostalgia 
lay naked and damp, one breathes 
sounds, the other, struggles to rise

2 thoughts on “Two Tricks by Lana Bella

  1. I enjoyed this very textural piece which resonates with me with regard to the cigarettes, (ex smoker now) but ultimately a very tactile. smooth, and sleepy, vice laden write.

    Loved this: until sunrise crawls up the stairs of my heavy eyes,

    Liked by 1 person

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