before the sun comes up

I drink a cocktail of moonlight.

As my cherry orbits the craters

concaving in the rim of my glass.

The flakiness from my straw or

the residue left in my conscious.

The weight of the world, unfurled,

a hallway rug consumed by the haze,

I wander the checkerboard floor, but

it was the chess piece. but

it was the last move. but

labyrinth walls don't show

the despair. but

The floor will do.

So should another drink.

A special drink.

I drink a shot of darkness.

Before the sun comes up...