the light you see

Wind smells of cold metal and pre-dawn wetness

Light too bright on your naked 3am face
See three days growth
Smell the stale tang of cigarettes
Made more slender by sheer deprivation
But you won’t play off the circles drawn deep
Like a cartoon drunk
From where and how you forgot to sleep (you don’t know)
For the first time, you start to define yourself by what you have not
What you have, or had, an anecdote to amuse calloused sensibilities

There is beauty in Sodom:
In an evaporating puddle, murky and brown, you’re looking at it

The light you see is a dying star


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