Half drunk sullen moon
laden with nightly drama...

I never wish to write with a heavy heart...
But tonight, I will be the widow...

No mountain that's high
and space, impenetrable...

[Twenty twelve at two o'clock in the morning]
December has come, yet again...

This heart of mine endures
So much of worlds misery...

There's a tweak in the air,
each time slumber...

I maybe self-centered, but that's because
you are too troubled to speak, too chocked up...

In silence and confinement
resides his soul's merriment...

Another morning yet another wasted soul
Its tired 4am floating home out of control...

My thoughts
are like bubbles restlessly...

Drifting into the expansiveness
of the moments when you once...

When the pain of loneliness
and a drunken tongue collide...