Back to the writing scheme of things,
A Vodka mixture close to my pen…my writing wings.
I feel the Sun and the warmth leaving me,
the cold winter breeze drifting through cracks in the floorboards and shivering my soul.
This moleskin keeps me ticking….
My breath on the mirror glass
I lean against the bathroom wall and stare anxious for signs I am still alive.
I glance for a sign in my eye that I still care,
A sign that I am better than this and have a purpose beyond the useless rambling of just getting by and surviving day to day.
Everything comes down to if a trust can be built with your reflection.
To stare within your own skull and come back with an answer for the next day.
To Rise tomorrow and allow the sun to warm your face in triumph.