01-01-10

Up at 4:10 - shuffling
through darkness, fingers
knowing the drill so well a cigarette
is packed in the night.

Shuffling through darkness, a door
open - the obligatory smoke
to chase the demons away.

4:10
wondering "Is it any different?
This day than any other day? The same
rain falls, the same demon haunts
the night dancing
with a Unicorn, vying
for the mind."

Smoke done,
door shut, he shuffles
back to hide among the folds
of cheap comforters.

Up at 7:10 - checking
messages, threads; habit
really and nothing more. Should
stay awake now - but the escape
of sleep beckons - another smoke
punched and nothing today
differs from yesterday.

9:40 and shame
and a voice which is not
there calls his name, drags him
from bed - a voice he begins
to fear will only be heard
in his head.

One more cigarette made...

Sitting
in the wind and rain
"it is the same rain that falls
while the same wind blows, the same
stale, cold, coffee and thick
nicotine cough - the same stiff muscles and
the same empty house."

This new day
of the new year -
it is no different
than the three hundred
sixty and five which ran
before my friend.

...and "On Saturday
Afternoons In 1963"
screams
from the speakers.

_{(A Friend who knows :: 01-01-2010)}