Among addictions and vice
there are none I want more
than an addiction to the sunrise,
a vice most forgiving.

The taste of alcohol,
inciting the bellicose beast
cannot satisfy me,
and I have tried.

As for pleasure,
the kind that makes skin crawl
and the breath heavy,
needs more than itself to satisfy,

so I searched on.

Chalices of wine and paper smoke,
skin and bedrooms bathed in moonlight,
the allure of quick satisfaction
could not satiate my thirst.

Only one scene has been constant,
delivering me from my vices,
partner of the morning skies,
far from tinctures and tonics,

the sunrise.