ashes

my mind creates phrases that I cannot rid myself of, nor can I connect them to others as would a poet. these lines swirl around in my brain and I am unable to focus on any single thought. I begin to curse myself for being such an untalented seamstress. this thought flies away as quickly and rudely as it jolted in. my attention is now on how I will decorate my future house, then I begin to contemplate Marie Antoinette’s lovely hair. a voice suddenly interrupts and I’m shocked when I return my attention to this universe, only to find the ice cubes in my coffee have melted and half of my cigarette has burned itself to ash. I do not know what I was thinking.