A Portrait of Decay

A row of garages, all painted blue
The daffodils droop in the evenings,
And the apples are left to rot.

I see a thousand windows from my room,
And a thousand contradictions behind,
Their lives playing in full screen.

I counted sixty cars before I got bored,
Two crows sit on the arm of a lamppost,
I have been forgotten.

I like to make my life choices at the end
Of a cigarette. Forging my resolve
In a furnace deep below my heaving chest.

Heavy tendrils of remembrance float
Around my head, encasing me fully
In the musky daydreams of tomorrow.

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