It is drunken stillness, lingering on death

Tasting bitter coffee on late-afternnon breath

Uneasy to share, to talk about the pain

Unsure and afraid, eager to lay blame

Alone in a crowd, seperate from truth

Not seeing a rope, but a possible noose

Avoiding mirros to escape from the sight

Of eyes and skin, devoid of light

It goes unheard, unspoken, unseen

Pretending our lives are neat, nice, and clean

Only visible at dawn, when sleepy eyes close

Release and rest, brought on by an overdose.