Blue Grass

you wake up,
and smell the world,
thinking of your new girl.

you go out,
and walk around,
analyse life, lying alone on the ground.

you think,
and intoxicate as you frown,
befriending the alcohol that's just gulped down.

in the evening,
filled with emptiness, as the sun sets,
futile attempts of cleaning up the mess.

visit the night,
smoking and drinking,
in a corner, nostalgia shrinking.

and,
you smoke the day's last cigarette,
inhaling the scarcity of smiles, to show
exhaling the prosperity of your perennial woe.


- Not a poem; an attempted song!
(The rhyme might seem forced)