Sipping inebriation to pass the time.

Desires of an almost,
but not quite,
criminal mind…

A mind of mine.

Thinking and thought out,
like the smoke screen that was blown about
by the atmosphere as it lifted off.

Finally a completed thought,
and it’s too late…

It’s stopped,
or not.

My mind returns to me in a song
that only I can sing along to.

Out of tune to you,
but in line with mine
and everything we all do.

I’ll sit while long ago should have been cut off takes my spot.

An engine turned on
leaves me to believe I’ve done wrong.

A thinking woman figures it out
and returns to remind me…

I’m a shell in my own personal hell
and everyone else knows better.

Remove a sweater
and lose the winter skin,
or hold onto and be tormented forever
in a city where if you know no one
you don’t know me,
and get lost in a world of infinite impossibilities,
and let the warmth surround me,
and breath the clean air…

The air where The Glitter Man
and I both agree.

And forever be *free.