I opened my eyes
And saw only the haze
That I've always seen

Some grainy

Dotted

Surreal sight

That come from
Too much drinking

Lack of loving

Or both

The fact
Is always there

My mood

It hangs on me
Like a crow to his branch
Or
The moon to the sky

Consistently there
For no one
But itself and
Everyone

Troubles come on
Like shitty sitcoms
Like a wind and a chill
Like bad long love

Anything that
Time
Can get her

Grubby little bitch fingers on