I spend most of my nights
high
or low
caught between the itch for
love
happiness
warmth
familiar voices
lights
moments
arms

lips
spitting words of promise
believable
because I crave it

but so busy and lost in my ocean of poison
self induced
self medicated

not ready to fall back into reality
terrified to go a day without
giving in
to these growning addictions

and this weak and sweaty grasp on reality is wearing thin
threatening to give in at any time
and let go

what happens then?
when I’ve lost myself
dropped myself
betrayed myself
into my self
and I’m this whole new mix of emotions
of problems

of prescriptions
pollutes my life again?

time is running
and I’m running
and reaching
and tripping
and falling

caught by the sound
of ticking and tocking
and in a last gasp for air and
in a last attempt at salvation
at closure

ill whisper your name
and it will be the last name
these parted lips will ever whisper
with such compassion
desire
ache
and unsatisfaction.

its cold here
and I am alone

and nothing can bring you to me
or me to you

tragic existence.

without you here it feels as though existing is nothing more than
inhaling
and exhaling
emptiness
and heartbreak
feels as though the purpose
in everything has shrivled up to
be consumed by greedy
greasy
strangers
with little to offer
but a lot to ask
little as in enough to lend me wings
to pass my time in hallow skies
a lot as in enough to strip me
of innocence of light and
of youth

but you’re too far away
you probably don’t remember
you’re probably glad to forget
my intrusion
of yout heart.