Passage of time
marked by drinks and the
clinking of glasses being cleaned.
My mind far from my eyes.
My eyes far from my mind.
I think I met you when you were young
but I’m not sure if that was me all so long ago,
or that you’d be the shade whom I stand across from now.
I never thought I’d still know you now, or how I still
smile murmuring your name.
Quell my brain who
barrages me with thoughts of truth!
I’m not as strong as it claims to be, so
can some soul tell me the sick, sadistic
pleasure it gives me with pictures and
scenes that taunt my eyes and which
hungers the heart – reminding of the standing
Diluted poison, a heavy taste of
amber reassures the bones that it won’t
feel the dull pain much longer. Clogs my
pores, pouring another glass – don’t stop me
as I swallow a newer death sentence.
Anything, to hope to distract me and my mind
from my brain.