when silence
creeps in
a dark fog settles
behind his eyes:
a child
who begs
to be heard

the uncomfortable
solitude
the restless
turmoil

the phone calls
“hey,
is there anything
going on
tonight?”

the drinks
the late nights
the girls
the bars

intoxicating
laughter
playful
banter
the smiling
winking
flirting

the people
the friends, if you’d
call them that

a whirlwind
of entertainment
a tornado
of distraction

he does not
seek safety;
he’d rather
escape the confines
of shelter
to get lost in the
storm

02/26/2010

Posted on 03/06/2010
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