that sweet
narcotic
afterglow
rings in my
ears,
hums deep
pink noise
pitched hard,
shifted by
variable thresholds,
so th sound
hypnotizes
truth is born
as necessity
emerges,
you realize
th people
surrounding you
have little
on offer
they're mostly nowhere,
born or
breathed,
and
even unlikely
lives; birthed premature,
thriving despite
disaster,
or achieving
th impression
of certainty,
all reveal themselves
craven and withering,
impotent and
so
potent
they'll ask for love
anywhere
til th habit
redeems
for a short window,
then its closed,
so they seek new
rooms,
new views
they'll never see
how foolish
they look
staring
out
identical
suburban
windows
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