this space.
This is a place where smoke and mirrors set the scene. And an honest person is few and far between. In this space I've sat before; late night discussion and the art of metaphor. Living in this place I've walked cold streets so drunk and restless. I could spend a whole lifetime trying to forget this. Faces seem so distant here, but we grow closer over a joint and beer. Devil's eyes frozen in the moonlight dark. With pen, word and heart; everyday is a battle just to leave a mark. But I'm trying now, no word of a lie. To be at peace with this place before I die. The time it takes from now until then, concerns me not, it's not the end. It is only too late after the fact. I'll live a thousand dreams, before ever coming back.