Blinding

Getting drunk on Irish wine
and lost dreams
I lost you but
I also lost me

The smoke clears
but the smell stays
and the stain
the stain is still here

The wood on the table
is old
But you cant plant a tree
on old wood

I smell of nightmares
and groundhog days
The memory
of life
Is sanskrit
and I cant even read

Passing Clouds
and smoke screens
shout in my ears
like time

The volume is blinding

I stagger of sideways
while faces melt
and the door seems to lead
somewhere