blurry vision of glass

as more nights come to their early end,
the sun shines later with every passing day;
the snow has not yet arrived
cold clouds have covered the streets.
within warm walls we all seek shelter,
yet there’s nothing offering a safer refuge
than the needle sitting on my coffee table,
there to remind me of those I’ve lost,
those I’ll never again see.
it’s the moments that are forgotten,
the set of eyes I once stared into with lust,
then erased, like they meant nothing.
and, quite possibly, they never did.
a phantom arm around my neck, a faint kiss on my cheek;
she’s back, my Emily. for a single moment it’s six years ago,
she’s still alive. we’re still getting high on the same blue couch I
still sleep on, then I try to write until sickness kicks in and
another fix is required.
a kiss on the other cheek,
it’s four years ago; Christine is under the covers.
come to bed sober,
for one motherfucking night¸
she pleads with me and I can’t hear her soft voice,
loud music through the headphones, blocking the world.
I’m in the here and now once more,
no one around to hold my hand as the mist yet again
has fallen all around me
and chains have been shackled around my ankles.
nowhere to go, no escape, no safe haven;
only the broken promises I once gave,
the embraces I lost.
another empty bottle,
in its bottom I seek for answers and there’s none.
one more sip, the mind grows numb,
but the soul remains wide awake.
take me away, I beg the white shadow outside my window,
once more I’m refused; still things to do,
the only thing I hear before the world disappears
and I’m stranded, all alone, in the absolute nothingness,
staring back at the blank page.