I've been lost

since before I could even walk

and now it makes me sick

that I can run, jump,

and rip the moon down from the sky

if I wanted....

but still wouldn’t know

where to go with it

or how to get there.

So tonight I drank

for the first time in months

and wished

on the only star

bright enough to pierce through the smog

of the D –

on that one little dot that says

“You are here”

like on a map in some failing shopping mall

full of empty stores

and kiosks of fake jewelry

painted gold.

I don't know.

Maybe if I keep drinking

I'll find my way

somewhere...

to brilliance, to rehab,

or to the ground.

But I don't give two shits,

I'll just let Jack take the wheel

take it from my hands

because I can't find my way on my own.

There's just something

so unexplainably beautiful

about kissing the lips

of a cold bottle

under an empty, polluted sky

then watching the stars appear

one by one,

telling me exactly where I need

to go

and be.