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Fell
The high beams from your
Cadillac eyes
catch me as I
fall.
My razor wire
lowers to let
you in.
Harmlessly, my
bloodpump breaks,
no blueprints though.
The light laughter
when you realize
how hard I
fell.
Ashtray
You smoke what I give you
then put it out on my chest.
A couple holes in all of my shirts,
little to no chest hairs left,
and two hundred circular scars.
Craig M. Logan attends Central Michigan University, and is currently
studying creative writing. He has been writing for a few
years now, and is eager to be published.
Email: Craig M. Logan
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