Pacifique Niyitanga

At 10 pm, Theory of Smokes

But who cares?

And my red pen

Painting pain;

Scribbles of woe

But who cares?

Lone rotting lives,

Self-hatred souls

And hush, all of us.

But who cares?

Why sloppy slip

Or smoky smell

And the whole tale

But who cares?

The long lasting

Shit, the old vices

And anxiety. I care.