Under the Street Lamp

He inhaled the midnight air,
under the street lamp
amongst a satyr
drooping over.

His arms were
bound
but golden to his
eyes.
And as his tears fell
inward...
...his aura expired.

Praise to the flickering
light and the
spirits'
command.
Just one touch
from the
quota death required.

And his call was
weak,
laden to the
mire
his feet flattered.

As he drug
himself away,
and yet under another
street lamp he
sat...
...dead but alive,
as again he got high.

Matt DeFranco

Dedicated those friends yet in addiction's turmoil.

Reviews

[Stephen]

Today`s freaking youth`s been passing through such kinda turmoils .. just cus of freaking infatuations ... every day`s bringing much hotness around the world from which it`s hard to save the soul but the inspirations`re always there to keep the life balanced so, yeah .. this piece could be a part of much inspirations of those pals who`ve been striding through the feelings of of satyr ~~ which`s an addiction itself.

The words`re well penned!