Aiming for the moon
coin under foot
up only from here is where I hope to be.
My hands tied behind my back
chain bound
two steps back for my half one forward.
Try to cherish those sights for my poor eyes
shame for my poor soul
good things slip my mind.
So at the bar I'll consolidate
Use a bottle as my trumpet and blast these thoughts into scribbled lines.
Liver traded to heal my wretched mind
sunrise signal to start from scratch.
A hope for new
but this happens every-time
It was just a temporary fix
because today I'm pulled down again.
*Title pulled from novel 'Moon and Sixpence' by William Somerset Maugham