Another cigarette burns carelessly between two fingers,
good company, old friend,
the smoke is a reminder,
nothing lasts, nothing should.
Tonight's full moon has turned the world into an upside exclamation point,
shouting instructions in a language,
too subtle to decipher.
I know something is wrong,
it's felt in the crack of knuckles,
the shallow sound escaping a drawn out yawn,
the dull loneliness that scuttles in your periphery,
haunts all the corners,
and reminds you of lovers,
that slipped through the fingers,
like time through the minutes marked on a clock.
It's withdrawal you know.
Love is a drug,
I need you cause I love you,
I love you cause I need you,
I need to know the difference,
I refuse to stop trying.
I knew it once,
but the timing was wrong,
said the stitches to the itches,
trying in vain to hold on.
This full moon will rise,
and the tension from the tides,
will crash on your conscience,
and pull each one slowly.
So as you bleed for the last,
and pray for the next,
in breaths that yearn to follow the bubbles stolen from jaded, swollen lungs,
Just to be pulled under,
a victim of submission,
just to be found again,
and drown again.
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