the unrelenting addictions
to the roadseasky&cafe
always indulged before i realised
how it needs to be wiped away
how the smallest pleasures
are nothing gained
if they are to be had
in everyday

pull me through the depth
that i choose to drown in
i'm drowning in ink

lie defeated on the threadbare carpet,
by the lamp casting yellow light on my messy scrawl
it's the same idea, the same old message,
a comedy past midnight
while i take to the lounge
in a sleeping bag,
a heady scent.

((some nights i read you in the dark))

at the end of the day
i'm just the same.
maybe made heavier by
the weight of some
unforetold memory?