137 – Eyes

Nothing given
That can’t be taken back.

Nights of mindless passion
Kissing strange lips,
That taste of too much whiskey
Mixed with strong weed.

Cold shivers
From yet one more failed cold turkey,
Trying hard not to pass out
On your own bodily fluids.

Smashing your head,
Over and over
Against the same old wall
Of self-destruction.

Trying hard to numb the pain
With a just louder form
Of the same pain.

You clean up
As best you can,
And go back to the dead ritual
Everybody else calls life.

It keeps you busy,
Holding fast to a mask
That could almost pass
For sanity.

But you know,
You always know.
As soon as you look
Into those eyes.

The scars are always fresh,
They make sure they stay that way
By ripping of the new flesh
Before it starts to heal.

They claw deep within your head
To dig out the rotten corpses
Of the memories you tried so hard
To kill.

The eyes within the mirror,
Always know.