The night’s stupidity,
drunken haziness
burns me to the core
as my cigarette
burns away,
disintegrates
in front of my eyes.
A death stick,
disappearing,
and I do nothing to prevent this
suicide.
I say things I don’t mean.
I speak only the truth.
Why does this honesty
scare me
more than reality?
This stupored fake-life,
half-life,
honest life
frightens me to death.
drives me to insanity,
to life after death.
to death after life.
Why do thoughts come easier
late in the night,
early in the morning,
as the drunken frost
and dwindling alcohol
take their effects
and make me shiver?
I doubt myself more,
dislike myself more,
hate myself more
through true eyes.
Through my blue eyes.
Through clear empty bottles.
Purple smoke
through the black sky
and orange streetlight.
My soul withers,
and tears drop.
No one to wipe them away.
Light up another one
in hopes of warmth,
only clear water in
clear empty bottles
to aid the shivering.
Burns my ears,
tears up my eyes.
But the tears fall
long after the
“Lucky 20”
burns away.
Gone.
And I’m still here,
shivering.
long hallways
and neon lights,
never-ending repeating carpet
forever embedded in my memory.
my living hell.
no mirrors.
I hate this view of me.
Only carnival mirrors
and well-chosen masks
can save my soul now.
|
Submission Name: clear empty truths
