Under A Bloodshot Moon 

Between the blackouts

and the vertigo

stirred up conversations

seem to creep

into our decaying minds

Answers become excuses

Questions turn into

swollen sarcasm

Between the collisions

and the stars under a

bloodshot moon

your voices raises

with a slur

Dangling words reside

at the bottom of a bottle

Sounds of gin on the rocks

washes the memories

away for a toxic moment

You go to bed lonely

and you wake up by yourself

Acceptance of losses

are brick walls we run from

Denying who we are

is the best damn thing humans do

Between the reality

and the broken down wishes

We drown in our misery

and stare into the bloodshot moon

51 Comments

    1. I’ll send you some questions and you can share your thoughts on them. I will do my best to keep them in the scope of your writing, in accordance to your wishes. 🙂 What is the best e-mail to send them to?

      Liked by 2 people

  1. Wow. Where to start…. this is really great. Mesmerizing really. Like sitting on a barstool reflecting on a love lost and attempting to drown out the sorrow and loss and mistakes, night after night without really solving anything.

    Liked by 2 people

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