glasses once filled with rum,
still the smell endures and the remnant of cola, now just color at the bottom
her kiss, like scripture; something to believe in
in a manner of speaking, I'm still on my knees with hands together towards the sky
the search for a numbing agent so strong it wipes away all memories of them
those which are now cracks in my tombstone
yes, that search endures as well
for I apparently can't handle the focused intensity by which they break me down
like sunlight through a magnifying glass
slowly peeling back all that sustains me,
that to which our meaningless little lives mostly dwell upon in our cherished hours of the day
looking up at the sky now, seeing nothing, the cold permeating but not affecting,
I find that I need less and less
except for something to believe in
oh, that necessity endures
that necessity, like a dead tree
still standing after so many years, roots firmly implanted in the earth
still fighting against the wind, the rain,
stubborn like it hasn't yet realized its fate
that necessity
gnawing at my heart at all cherished hours of the day
her kiss, like scripture
something to believe in
God, how I need something to believe in
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