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Description
I walk the dark streets and dead eyes stare at me from every direction.
I wonder if my eyes share the same blank stare of sleepless nights and empty cigarette cartons.
I walk to a stop and take a midnight train
Wonder around town looking for someone to sell me cocaine.
I light a smoke and wonder down back alleys and through brothels.
Women grope at the heme of my garment
Hoping for some back alley Messiah.
I offer them no miracles and no money.
I see Jenny in a corner and old poetry runs through my mind
and I realize there is a stack of books at home that I should be getting back to.
A house that smells of smoke and booze,
Books littered on the floor like dead children of a lesser god.
And I realize that I two have been tossed aside,
like a forgotten novel with pages torn out.
Full of nothing but fictions
and addictions.
So I scatter my coat and turn my body to the wind.
It howls broken promises in my ears,
tells me it will take me away.
Like a lover desperate from loss the wind misses my touch.
Tells me I should move on.
Always,
Moving on.

Description
I walk the dark streets and dead eyes stare at me from every direction.
I wonder if my eyes share the same blank stare of sleepless nights and empty cigarette cartons.
I walk to a stop and take a midnight train
Wonder around town looking for someone to sell me cocaine.
I light a smoke and wonder down back alleys and through brothels.
Women grope at the heme of my garment
Hoping for some back alley Messiah.
I offer them no miracles and no money.
I see Jenny in a corner and old poetry runs through my mind
and I realize there is a stack of books at home that I should be getting back to.
A house that smells of smoke and booze,
Books littered on the floor like dead children of a lesser god.
And I realize that I two have been tossed aside,
like a forgotten novel with pages torn out.
Full of nothing but fictions
and addictions.
So I scatter my coat and turn my body to the wind.
It howls broken promises in my ears,
tells me it will take me away.
Like a lover desperate from loss the wind misses my touch.
Tells me I should move on.
Always,
Moving on.