Blue Nights

A cold wind blows in,
And stunts the bite of my hot cigar,
Roaches squirm under the leaves they turn,
As they fuel my mental scar,

I talk to the smoke as it leans in and listens,
To the sounds of self-deprecation,
Undulating freely,
While it soothes my emotional prison,

I speak of things turned down by ears,
Too pompous and proud to care,
To the mosquitoes buzzing in the summer porch light,
My deepest frustration I share,

My thoughts they dance,
In a night with nothing but time
A solemn scene, by capricious means,
A loneliness I can call mine.