Golden Gloves

So it comes down to this.
Nothing to keep.
No one to miss.
They’re just salutations and ruminations.
Empty hearts.
Empty suits.
So I’m alone, and drinking too.
This haze takes me away.
The wounds are healed for a day.
And I won’t die.
This smoke gives me away.
I’ll sleep soundly today.
And I am time.
Praying to bottles.
Caving, it coddles.
I’m falling into outer places and darker spaces.
This flailing heart is calling you when I’m alone, and drinking too.