Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2013
I sit here
****** again,
without a friend,
lost today
in a haze of snow,
bitter and biting at my face,
I dread the hour
That does await,
when sleep won't come
I will not partake,
I'll smoke until my lungs
are heavy,
until my conscious mind
is melted.
these dreary things
I will forget,
till the next morn comes;
let's begin again.
Written by
   --- and Bluelips
Please log in to view and add comments on poems