Sleepwalking

At first it burned…
Deep, harsh and resplendent.
Smoke filled evenings, bad boys,
A bottle of nickle-and-dime, tasteless wine.

Lust I believed was love,
Legal highs and bootleg lows,
Waking up in unfamiliar places,
The comedown, the same old town.

Becoming superannuated
Before my twentieth birthday.
In rundown hotels,
Sleepwalking the corridors, roaming the floors.

When desire turns into addiction,
Go to sleep with a numb tongue.
Then the clock strikes thirty,
And it’s all gone.