Some days the sky hurts more than the rain that falls
from it
Broken pots on hand wheels, smoked cigarette butts in the
gutter
Half sipped bottles of Beam and Cognac on the
floor
I found a lovely ray of sunshine today
Smoking in the half-light of dead buildings
We used to drink here, remember?
On cold December nights when the lights were
waning moon, dim
I grab at mornings slept in
I grasp days unattended
Wasted days like empty bottles
Pour out the rainwater on dried up
plants
Nothing much left to do but
light another
For a while at least..