The Night

I rise with the afternoon a moment much too soon

Open my eyes to a blinding light
With not the slightest idea what occurred last night

I feel the night

A hazy, blurry mess that was over before it began but I know I will do it again

I smell of the night

Liquor, cigarettes and cologne is the aroma which I cannot break away from

I taste of the night

Stale from the environment that I do not fret

I hear the night

I listen to the sounds that are muffled now more than before I ever swore

No more!

I see the night

I look in the mirror and I cannot recall who I am glaring at

No matter how hard I try

I always turn into that guy

Wake up with a girl who I do not even know

Wake up with a wound I cannot explain

Wake up with a pain that I bare to no one but myself

I sit bare in the shower

For a couple of hours

Try to clean this mess of a person

No matter how hard I scrub the night never comes off

Worst part of all is that this does not only occur at night

I call it night because I am in the dark

Fall or Rise?

I am beginning to fall although some would much rather call it fail
But the thing about falling is you can rise once again and continue to scale
I am almost to the point where I might decide, not to rise but to wail
And drown in ale till I am inebriated and cannot recall
The pale man staring back in the mirror at all

Seems to be a pattern, the older I grow the more I grow sadder
I fear that at any moment I might no longer matter
Not only to you but matter to me, what is a matter with me?
Seems like I am living to die but I am dying to live
I wish I could feel like a child again

So tomorrow I will rise and continue to cry in the morning alone
But maybe my sorrow will somehow not see tomorrow
And I can finally smile for a while on my own
I think I might try to smile instead of cry
I do not think I can go on living to die—so maybe I will rise