He is scraggled,
bathed only by the suns light during the hours of his slumber on Miami dewed, morn soil.
He sleeps off the night before, though he is not reminicent of it in his dreams,
as his slumber is no longer dreamt, but devoured by the nightmare of life,
and nights and days have begun to slur into one another
untill one becomes another,
and vice versa.
The empty bottle in the bag was dumped miles ago
on the side of a road no longer remembered,
and the facade of the beggar was dropped long ago,
as the face of hope was rendered.
The known knowledge of his future demise does not scare him,
as the only friend that brings him peace is the one that will destroy him.
But he is alright,
as the short lived calm of his decent into the burbon torrent
is his way of riding his nightmares,
and as he drinks his way away tonight, honey,
he knows,
this truely is all there is.

a.r.

The confines of this hotel room are all to pure,
as the devastating concequence of what brought us to this place is all to obscure.
And the windows are cracked, to help vent out the waryness,
but not even the constant air conditioning can blow out the bleak and bring us bliss.
We’ve shared many cigarettes by the balcony of our bathtub,
and tried to rid of the pain though books and coffee by a train hub.
But nothing can seem to rid the void between,
and my toes grow numb each day we loose belief.
Soon, I will no longer stand this, and niether can you,
and tomorrow we will awake with lips dark navy blue.

So as I am finally tired, and you’ve become cold, lets wrap together beneath the sheets while we can,
because tomorrow’s fatigue will creep up quickly, baby,
and choke me just like a man

It the way you’ll have your coffee
steaming and without cream, the black liquid concealing the light taste of sugar beneath.
It’s the way you run you fingers through your hair when you chuckle,
both your lips and blonde locks parting slightly
Or the way you breathe
the breath swelling deep in your soul,
resonating and reminding you of the life within you,
and showing in your eyes,
those eyes that shine with light
like stars shine through clouds,
and headlights alight through fog
opaqe from the covering, but the never dulled.
It is the way you are you,
and the world would have you no other way.

We would whisper sweet nothings in one anothers ears,
lying delicately on white sheets covering the hardwood,
surrounded by books and pages of verse which we could not understand,
but were on an endevor to find out.

We spoke of death and the dreary,
our tounges rolling with the words of the deceseased, as their words sounded more alive now than ever before.

We sought refuge under the window unit,
the air chilling our bodies that steamed with passion
when we nibbled on refridgerater pizza, smoked harmoniously, sipped generously, and spoke avidly.

We were us, as we should be.
And in that moment,
Nirvana had never seemed so near.

a.r.