Every night I sit lonely on my balcony,
Soothingly sucking my poison addiction,
Pretending it provides me peace of mind
From the cacophony inside my head.
Every night I look up at the sky and
Stare at the leaves on the trees:
Decorations against the vast deep blue that towers above.
The green is so vibrant; the blue is so black.
Is it a dream, or is it a nightmare?
Every night my thoughts are burned along with the cigarette in my hand.
A bright orange spot of all my fears and troubles.
The fires of hell threaten to destroy the brilliance
Of the green that promises life.
To swallow it in the black of the darkening sky.
Every night I marvel at the intricate outline of leaves that
Overlap leaves and overpower the dullness of branches.
The shapes and shades fill me with promise,
Provide me with dreams of what could be.
Or perhaps it is simply that I think too much.
Every night I walk the dream of the night before.