In the wee hours of the New Year
with an empty bottle and lucky strike in my hand
hollow and clinking like funeral bells
signalling with little remorse the death of another year.
I look up at the dark night sky
and Orion's bullet hole belt buckled tight
and sighing out smoke,
I think of you.

With drowsy steps I drag drunken feet
into the cold indoors.
I shut out the lights
that illuminate the glass eyes of my apartment;
and hobbling slowly up creaky steps
holding the heavy weight of my lonely heart in my throat
I think of you.

I bump weakly into the hollow plywood door
of my hollow white room
and ******* from the rags of a days memories
I slip naked into the cold sheets of a burnt beat old mattress
and my thoughts are naked
and my souls gentle skin rubs naked against the threadbare sheets
and my prides moon bleached carcass lies naked as it always does
and my mind is cold and naked
reaching for something warm,
something comforting.
and
I think of you.

I shake myself to sleep on the lonely pool of springs
flexing, kicking
demons, energy
from my restless body.
Sleep wraps me in its velvet womb
silent and peaceful.
I think of you.

Dreams materialize from the pit of sleep
making me relive past pleasantries
obligations from other lives.
I am unsatisfied in imagination.
Feeling for something real
something worth remembering
something I can use in the darkness
I Think of you.

I'm sure the sun will rise
I'm sure I'll wake with a start
From some unremembered dream
I'm sure the cold will grab me
I'm sure it will lick sickly at my tired bones
I'm sure things will get better.
I'm sure I'll fill in the hole of a heart with black cement.
I'm sure my soul is sitting warm as a coal under an ash blanket of confusion.
But for now,
I think of you