No stars. No hope.

Black sand paper like shingles scratch up my back as I lay two stories tall with cigarette in hand. The consistent list is on my mind once more. You, Her, that other one, boot camp, the remainder of my cigarette, the length of my intoxication, but the thing that strikes me most is the lack of stars on my horizon. Are they coming out for you tonight? Do they sparkle, dance, and dazzle you? Perhaps. They say what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, I can certainly attest to that. Once able to drown my sorrow with whiskey until his dreadful moans lessened and became nothing but joyful gurgles. But now a bottle and a half down, I only see strangers in arm's length.
Admiration only means anything if you agree with your soothsayers.  The one joy I've gotten from a stranger's observation was fleeting. "You have 'don't Fuck with me eyes'" I was told by a dominatrix while I was losing my mind at a crowded sex party in Chicago. She had eyes that told me Her Father hadn't given Her enough attention. After being locked up, running free sounds desirable. Boring sex. Palatable tastes are no longer regarded as valid.
I want nothing more than to be happy. What I need to be happy makes me miserable at the thought.

Past the Iris

Hunched over the green felt like a sniper, taking aim.

Stripes, Solids. Good or Evil.

It makes no difference. 

Calculated stares behind steel rimmed glasses and a handle bar mustache. 

The kind of mustache you'd picture God having. 

Pull, Push, and Release. Sunk. 

Another game, another drink.

Banter back and forth, wooden weapons in hand used to occasionally steady one's self. 

An amphetamine soul, chugging cigarette after cigarette.

Enamel grinds against enamel. 

Thousand. Yard. Stare. 

Sure, He's got the Girl.

But you've got.

You've got..

You've.. Got...

You've got something special. Man.

No, I mean it. 

Ten thousand drooping eye conversations into the morning regarding the secrets of the Universe

Cold and warm hands held until their temperatures match

Staring past the iris, into the soul

Claims of Love. Of heartbreak. Of Truth and Intention.

Anyone who has noticed my smile was definitely looking for it.