The man began to rise, his jacket full of holes
Noting nothing, he misses his surroundings
The poor light, the smell, his own home
He falls back, too weak to support himself
Blinking should wash the past
It used to help
The alcohol seems more a baptism, these days
Than the tears before
Before the light winks out
And he closes his eyes
Something rattles, all too closely
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 1:10 AM UTC
The man began to rise, his jacket full of holes
Noting nothing, he misses his surroundings
The poor light, the smell, his own home
He falls back, too weak to support himself
Blinking should wash the past
It used to help
The alcohol seems more a baptism, these days
Than the tears before
Before the light winks out
And he closes his eyes
Something rattles, all too closely
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