It swims in his eyes
without worry of me watching.
A kind of crazy spin stuck
like blood clotting. The rotting
space of a wasteland for a mind.
Where memories of people jump
      from the eyes they lie behind.  


I’m just trying to find a place to focus.
The locust leap from withered grasses-
hopeless. But land on greener pastures  
which denotes this time the enemy might
be closest.
         Closest, too close & under heavy dosage.  


No sign of sedation. Eyes boat racing.
Words flung from a tongue like first tasting
lust and embracing your own disgust. Chasing
thrills, gorge pills
                        By the bottle before replacing.


Crust flaking from wasting skin.
By eyes still wild, captivating with
a maddening spin.  
                           It can’t end.
If It didn’t begin.