Ashtray Blues Poem by Mark Heathcote

I have those ashtray blues
Not wanting to walk
Another day in these shoes
Singing these butt end songs

It's never easy enough for us
But still, they contain
Some essence of what
-Angers you and me

Our fag end pages are rolled tight
Like red roses, I guess
Oh our intoxication's are never fed
And even, less
When there filtered
With nothing more to give

But who can give it up
Give it up for dead
When they come in packets
In packets with no change
After twenty years or more

Oh so I'm still stealing in
That last deep breath
Where my heart still lingers like a dove
With its queer; little song

But still a self-gratification
Sucks back; asking for one last one.

It's never easy enough for us
But still, they contain
Some essence of what
-Angers you and me

Our fag end pages are rolled tight
Like red roses, I guess
Oh our intoxication's are never fed
And even, less
When there filtered
With nothing more to give.