Friday 1

I don’t understand the rush

of the night.

I cannot find a connection 

with those,

who reach for the bottle

before emptying their hearts.

I don’t see the destruction 

within a work of art.

My tears, they fall fast

as I inhale a new scent 

of living, though I hope

it doesn’t last.

I have never been able

to understand the rush

of the night,

though just a glimpse 

of it makes me sleep right.

I cannot find the will to carry on,

so shoot me if I’m wrong.

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