Late one night while killing some time.
In a tv’s reflection I watched myself die.
With a door locked and curtains drawn.
Always drunk enough to follow that line.
There with 3 spent bottles and half a ball.
While Gideon sat quietly in a top drawer.
I would curse clocks untill the birds sang.
And with them came a morning’s blame.
See for too many years I lived that life.
Of forsaking day and loving my shame.