Bathed in the glow of street lamps
We catwalked through the red dusty streets
With short sleeves
And even shorter shorts
Displaying our scars to the night and the stars
The atmosphere was liquid and dry
Quenching our thirst for change
And parching our egos

We barely remembered our names
We were ****-faced  off of life

But with you right beside me
Even lying on the floor
Feels more like drifting through the sky

     (You are not my anchor,
     You are my pilot  through the clouds)

it comes every other day
unlike the tide, with its constant ebb and flow
glad to be awake and glad to be with people
transforms into wishing to sleep for eons and wishing to depart from existence
does that diminish the authenticity of the matter?

i'm always able to laugh
no matter the level of stupidity or simplicity the joke contains
my best quality, i've been told
apparently laughter is the best medicine
so are those that laugh the most attempting to medicate their sadness?

floating off
your words of encouragement

     "i look forward to reading your published works one day"

i've never allowed my mind the chance
to seriously entertain the thought
besides, i have a hard time swallowing criticism
despite my usual self-deprecating dialogue

they say assumptions are dangerous
yours especially
they hold the potential power to open new doors in my life