Lonesome Nights

staring at the darkening sky, as fantasy wolves
howl at the blood moon rising
from the depths of the earth

seeking for its next victim.

coffee to maintain sobriety for just a bit longer --
somehow trying
to prolong an already expired life.

when the smile falls upon me I rejoice,
momentarily.
when the beer’s poured, all’s forgotten.

the lost embraces, the cold kisses,

the meaningless nights searching for joy.

everything’s written on the wall, as actors go on the stage
for the thousandth time unable to discern between
real and fake.

fresh coffee brewed, more hours of just gawking at the sky,
away from the dives. smelling beer and whiskey in the air, trying
to catch the distant echo of
her whispers.

nothing there; nothing here.

back to the long-gone elsewhere. the last place
to be searched.

nothing. the night’s still young, the dives
fill up with young people looking for cheap thrills.

coffee in the mug, bourbon in the heart,

the words deteriorate -- sobriety
in lethal doses and nothing goes.