stub, three

not carrying a torch
it's more of a matchstick
blazing briefly and snuffed out
before anything catches alight
and if i couldn't light your fire
it weren't for lack of kindling

stub, two

sleepriding
everlow i lay to unrest the complications

paycheck scribblings antedated
chance of recovery contraindicated
feverdreaming of a future overmedicated
rather than vindicated

stub, one

the torch i carry gutters Out
raged, i fumble for the Matchstick
men of lesser grade would Leave
me, how else would i see the dark places