Drinking
My fill of time,
Left for me, what I might spare,
Wishing it can fill my wallet,
For emptiness
Is all that’s left.

A tainted glass,
What’s left of my dream…
Spinning the last of every hope
Into drops,
That bounces upon my tongue,
Ringing irony, as it echoes
Through my crippled heart.

The sun…
Too radiant.
(Within colored crystalline shade…)
I tried not to be scorched,
While the desert is about me…
I’d left myself
To stay under its heat,
Utterly dry.

Drinking:
My final warmth,
The flashing bulb, the golden cure.
And a seat that is too kind,
The only support I can have…
For all that had left me,
I cannot keep its track,
So, the good quiet night,
My only choice, is to linger
Awhile.

2008/6/9