Throbbing Song

Brooding Sunday nights in the neon glare of McDonald's with Peppermint Hot Chocolate and freshly baked cookies, feverishly probing for solace within the luminosity of my ersatz time and space travelling device.

Alone can be brittle.
Joyful
Complete
Utter
Full
searching
searing
empty
Content
Questioning
Careening
Carefree
naked
lost
Free
Liberation
a throbbing song
unlikely delight
a burden
liquid
burning
reaching
Seeking
Finding
I find myself,
come to terms with who I see
always seeing still more
so much more to do and to be

Every Sunday night
I suspect there are coffee grounds in the dregs of my cocoa
an emptiness that the cookies cannot fill
the caffeine spike falls flat
the light flares against the rim of my glasses
echoes coldness against my retina
beautiful eyes wasted against the
flat, glaring screen.
It never looks back.
Words wink and sparkle like eyes
warm the mind
touch the soul
kill the time...