Drug Halo

You left the halo on the corner of your four post bed the day you split and
drove down to venice beach.
You’re mother wept.
She knew it was nothing more and nothing less than what it seemed.
It was emptiness, and unpaid student loans, it’s cigarets and bouncing checks.
Your four year degree was never enough to maintain the life you dreamed,
the things you ate, the habits you fed.
But it doesn’t seem to matter to you, does anything?
The lives you set on railroad tracks weren’t yours to bet, but you were all in.
Come dance with me.
Sink into oblivion.
Watch me drown.
Why are your eyes so god damn dark?