Scorched spoons,
moldy prunes,
***** needles,
miserable people.

Shadows shimmer,
street lights flicker,
hits come quicker
getting bigger

-and bigger still.
My speed diminishes
in shallow water
slower but taller.

Like a tsunami
of misery
and addiction's
a mystery.

To those content
on life alone.
Forever alone
and I grow, I grow.

Throw a stone,
don't skim,
just throw.
Plunge in to the depths.

Recycled ambition
cries over and over
at the little things
it has never even met.

Regret me now.
Purchase an old
prune looking
far from its best.

A mood swing,
a swing mood,
something sweet
and fun.

Like childhood memories,
the joy they bring
forever growing older
and I sing, I sing.