deflated

   writing because it's the only drug i have

sick on sadness
as the weight of the moment
crumbling around me
comes down

             some sweet second inspires me
                                          (foolishly)

thinking we
(or i)
           will somehow fly
         (instead of this barely getting by)

stringing the
strong thoughts together
            with a sigh

the weight     the hurt
the wonder

and the wistful way i wake 
            from teasing dreams
it seems
some sweet second
     i second-guess,
yearning to call you and confess -

i write -
  my veins
   respond -

                       i am electric in the
                        hopeless halfness
                               burning.