Up goes the regret and the guilt

Through the passage

My sense of smell;

Built up

And the taste potently powdered in sheep’s


Appearing small but mighty,

Fighting the skeletons

I’ve dressed in


Questioning that fine line

Like a chalked silhouette

At a crime scene.

Pure emptiness

Resets itself

And I am tempted

By the euphoria.

Next time,

I’ll erase the line

And pass the time

With more of these rhymes.

The skeletons will dance

On the grave of sobriety

And the high will be

Low again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.