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...