Stuck Like Velcro

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Ninety-nine in Anaheim

on April 14th, and you are

long sleeve obviously hiding

the veins you hunt for in

the tearstream darkness.

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Now your habit is an all consuming

drought for the songbird.

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You used to be somewhat shy,

and miles away from shackled, but these

leaves fall on leaves and congregate.

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Ninety-nine in Anaheim,

and you are trying to score sunshine

in a bleek house somewhere.

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Now your actions are unknown to you.

Roaming in the gloom of instant distractions.

Only gratified, like a boulder toppling,

in a momentary abyss, where expectations

wait to be unfulfilled.

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Ninety-nine in Anaheim

on April 14th, and you are

long sleeve obviously drifting

away from the true you, and

daylight stains the vacancy.

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