1. the air is thick tonight, and dumb silent.


    a vice-grip itch fits like an old boot.
    exhaled smoke loiters before me,
    unwavered, prying the
    dead-crawl hours:
    a bored demon
    waiting for something.
    but i…
    i’m not waiting
    for anything.
    i expect nothing.
    and goddamn it all,

    i want
    even less.

    i ache
    for
    nowhere.


    words and photos by Jay Halsey