It died. It died.
The solitary bubble
found it's death under
the architectural
sharpness of the air vent.
It's celestial aura
vanished from any form
of human memory.
On the shores of a dark ocean
I did nothing but morph.
On the sidewalks of ghettos
I did nothing but love.
Inside the stunning colors
of my overwhelming imagination
the dead bury themselves.
Oh, wild night!
Take me, I dare you.
Oh, whiskey warmth!
Why have you forsaken me?
A martyr on the cross of addiction
