I only know (what I know)
there isn't anything we can't accomplish
huddled inside this wet cave
likes apples packaged in plastic
or the suffocating cigarette butt
choking for air at the bottom of the ashtray.
I only know what I know
and I'll never know
if that is enough.
who will unveil the answer?
portrait of a dog
a dog lies languidly
in a black leather chair.
he opens his eyes
when my shorts rub against the couch
and shout muffled cries
into smoke stained air.
the dogs shuts his eyelids
as I crouch back down,
hovering over words
that leak down an orange sunrise.
