tonight

my music is off I can hear the wind a car a snore the slight bang of a door I am thinking about the past delimeas and decisions death and drugs it's almost 11:30pm. its dark expect the street lamp outside our window across the road Harry calls it the fake moon I wonder what will happen to my little soul I hope the world will treat her kindly and I pray she will find souls to lie next to to tire her to this earth long after I dissolve I took a zopiclone now twenty minute time is set till I retire my pondering and black out to the world before waking in a haze tomorrow