Tag Archives: hope for escape

February

Wearing out my welcome, again.

The night is cold and vast, like the

Sahara or the Antarctica, it is

impossible to fill.

 

Outside the bar, belly full,

heart empty, I try to think

of a place to run to, any escape,

anyone who would receive me.

 

I can’t stand the cold, the night,

my apartment, my exhausted heart.

It is February, and it is its own night,

and it is just as endless and unfillable.

 

Self-medicate with Sad Bastard music

on the way home, or with ghost stories

on an audiobook, marking time until

all is quiet, and I have to live with my ache.

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