At night.

I like it best when it's dark and there is no one on the road

Every trip, scuff and call out of insanity

Is ignored, because I love myself too much

I have a soft spot for those kind-hearted folk

The ones who tip their hats, and smile at you

Even when they don't know your name

Or the score you got on that last test.

It's so nice.

My weakness goes as deep as my love

for white wine on a sunny morning

Allowing the alcohol to take over my

Body and evolve me into a higher species

One that doesn't take no for an answer

And always gets up for mothers who have no seat

I like it best at night

When the moon seems to be full

But isn't because the slightest sliver is missing

The desire to paint in that portion becomes

So overwhelming I run home so I can write this

Hoping to salvage the last bits of the memory

Before all the dimly lit street lamps steal them away

Blaming the moon shadows for my fits of sadness

And Rage

If I can't blame them who else will I blame?

I can't blame the people or my circumstances

So I just mail off my demise to a random address

Hoping the recipient can't read between the lines.

Or at least doesn't speak English.