When Tonight Arrives
When tonight arrives,
yet another whiskey-soaked, hazy search for absolution commences,
in nameless seedy dives,
where loneliness offers solace,
and self-pity thrives.
Staring at the bottle,
knowing it offers relief,
from the numbing pangs of grief,
while stripping down the edifices,
of trust and belief.
When tonight arrives,
with a million hearts exploding,
casting away loss,
and the comforting sense of foreboding,
I wait my turn at the guillotine,
bereft of peace,
moulting my skin,
as it strips away my clothing.
When tonight arrives,
without ceremony,
all innocence is lost,
my soul bearing the cost,
of tomorrow's pain,
cocooning my heart,
in a shroud of silence,
beneath mountains of frost.
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