Alone in My Apartment

Alone in my apartment

I am so diluted from alcohol and cleaning products
that I bet I could pass by a blood hound
and only give it a wistful thought of human existence.

But everything is clean.
I mean really clean.
Clean like the thoughts of a 5 year old
Clean like tools in hospital packages
There is no bacteria
There is not even bacteria?

Alone in my apartment.

The music brays
from the room you used to sleep in.
I keep thinking I hear your voice
Trying to talk over the rock n’ roll wall.
Every glance over lends itself to the contrary.

My shoulders feel weighted.

I heard about true sadness
in the scattered few books that I read.
The sadness that sometimes was spelled with a capital “S”.
The kind of sadness that caused men to chew on gun barrels
or women to throw themselves
and their kids, off a bridge
The kind of sadness that makes fresh air
feel like smoke.

Smoke.

I have already smoked more cigarettes
than I have fingers to hold them.
I only woke up three hours ago.

Oh God…maybe I didn’t!
Maybe I am just stewing in the sour soup
of a very bad dream.
Maybe my mind is giving me the what-if’s
So when the fateful day comes
I won’t feel like I am drowning in booze and formula 409.

Maybe.

Now I live my life by maybe.
In turn I miss my life
It's crazy.
I got to have goals
I got to believe they will happen.
Otherwise...

I DON'T GOT TO DO ANYTHING!

You keep telling me to sing a happier song
But I have lost my sheet music
I have lost the ability to craft my muscles around the wind
I lost...in a game...I didn't want to play.
The game was appropriately titled

Alone in my apartment.