I drink till the moonlight sinks deeply into my covers,
Where time has no mind, and no side-effects to gather.
May I sleep better than the days before,
Never to watch my ghost drift away towards the door.

Some raise their glass to the sky,
Some to the clink of another,
But I and I, bare and dry,
Give pity to my nerves without a bother.

As I turn the pages of a new novel,
Where the moon swings with the stars,
Soft and jovial,
Like towards an infinite inclinations of a son and mother.

Friends holding the cracks within my hand,
******* the toxic liquid from my skin.
We walk together among the wallflowers covering the land,
As a single, sole thought of entangled vines that we suspend.