Through the still blue of the half-light,
In a shroud of guilty sweat,
He tries to still the roaring silence;
Tries, and fails, to forget.
Twitching flesh will not obey him,
Through clenching mouth and tacky teeth
His heavy breath becomes erratic;
He’s not awake; He cannot sleep.
In Cocaine dreams he frowns and flounders-
Kicks the covers to the floor,
But demons squat his dampened pillow,
Probing fevered brain once more.
In terror, he denies his conscience:
He’s Blameless and he’s Doing Fine.
But Guilt is swift to prey on dreamers
And even he must dream sometime.
Ears like burning, scorching sensors
Hear each breath echo all his lies,
The rhythmic rush of blood between them
Pumps these thoughts behind his eyes.
Through a smoky screen of limbo
He sees the clock blink 4:01.
When will morning come and save him
From dwelling on the things he’s done?
Abandoned in the early hours,
Starved of arrogance and pride,
Narcissism now neglects him –
Nowhere left for him to hide.
The room might have a hundred people,
But, in sleep, he is alone
With the knowledge he has shunned
All the love he’s ever known.

With the morning comes his mission
To rid himself of sharp regrets,
Chase white lines to sweet oblivion,
Escape into his Ego’s depths.
With stolen cash and phoney cool,
He’ll up and find the only man
He knows can banish all his Demons
(For under fifty on the gram).

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