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Coming Down
I know it well, i know his paranoid mind.. tapping foot, agitated eyes, looking
everywhere but in mine
He pushes his cigarette butt further into the cup, projecting his contorted thought
onto something inanimate..
willfully taking the focus away.. discomfort in his own skin he tries not to display
He knows its just time now that separates him from straight thinking and sound
mind..
silently begging for the allowance of sleep to grant him calm then peace
For in these hours following a euphoric night, he bargains and promises himself
'that was the last time',
like the time before and time before that, a habit to be broken and yes to be free..
when he finds the answer i hope he shares it with me...
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