Starting over
100 nights
no sleep for the restless
when the weight
of my entire life
is packed up
in card board boxes
duct taped and labeled
slipping into a comma
of lost and found
delirium is a slow buzz
hang over
quietly scanning
empty rooms remains
less and less
of a thrill
there isn’t any sense
of calm or reprieve
only moments
of panic
scrambling for RX
Xanax
the world view
cameo appearances
in a cheap B flick
box light sparks ignite
another short in the wiring
and tomorrow feels
like a slow burn
flaunting hopes
like a white flag of surrender
what wasn’t gained
last life
hasn’t completely
passed from view
or just another fly by
hit and run
second chance
at starting over…

© 2016 TrilbyYates