Portrait of a Writer.

Portrait of a man...

Cigarette sloping from his mouth,
smoke drifting upwards with his thoughts.

He takes a drag
and one nicotene-stained hand
lifts to remove the cigarette
and tap ashes listlessly to the tray.

His face is cracked with thought.
Pen gliding over the paper,
thoughts forming words-
words forming thoughts.

What does it mean?
What does he think?
Why does he write?

Only he knows.
Someday maybe he will get lucky,
And others will understand.

But today his only true friends
Are imagination, coffee
And coffin Nails.