I light another.

Pretty fucked up in the grey and cloudy morning.
There are birds in the sky.
The river is beneath me, to the south.
A pair of neon joggers run on sidewalk treadmills.
I flick my cigarette butt off the balcony.
There is an ashtray beside me.

I light another.

Off work still strung out on uppers.
Shift ends at two a.m.
Have a drink or two when I get home.
Maybe get to bed at a decent time.
Failing that, I have another drink.
I throw on a movie.

I light another.

The movie's alright.
I prefer the vodka.
Still not tired.
Pack a little bowl.
Maybe it'll help me sleep.
I get anxiety when I get stoned.
I know this.
I can't stop thinking.
My heart is pounding.
I can't stop touching my chest;
Maybe I can find the problem.
I can't.

I light another.

I browse the lonely late night internet.
I scroll past comments, photos, headlines.
Unconvincing proof of life.
I watch two, three more videos.
I don't remember them now.

.

Pretty fucked up in the grey and cloudy morning.
The sun wakes up.
So does everyone else.

Wide eyed and weary,
O Lord, let me sleep!

The Lord does not oblige.

I light another.

[1] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4jj8mw/universe/)
[2] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4jjnvz/will_you_wait_for_me/)