The albatross picks plastic pellets to try to feed its young. Smoke cigarettes blow cocaine rust with youth intact die unabused. His time was over before it began and mine just hasn’t happened yet it hasn’t come it couldn’t happen here at all. Remember when we laughed we sung that song the one where the world was ending remember when the world ended while we wasted away hands tied to desks? This is my unrest just my unrest just my second second failed attempt at what will only ever could only be second best it’s not my best. There are diminishing returns as a good thing becomes too much of one and there is tipping point for which quitting is winning for when it-was-enoughs reach toward the point of superunsaturation but never quite crossing the line forcing hands. To take the accepted risk a loss of everything for one more night just one more flight accept a loss of everything as fair exchange and is this how addiction is to be defined? The counting down to a two-tailed coin flip the holding hopes in hands with loaded dice the always betting on the losing side always hoping for low odds always leaving it up to not a chance always giving into chosens without a fight. Forsaken innocence grasps at what-is-still-to-comes but what is still to come what hasn’t happened yet? Reach for felt-too-surface-level unknows forget to let it seethe. Just remember to breathe only to breathe the most basic needs to reprieve without delay forsake aging wisdom’s pressure points forsake it as hearsay it’s just what they say it’s just what they say. But wait: that city’s skyline is never sweeter than its first appearance rounding final bends on the return trip home. And never more than that. I wouldn’t play the card if I held a full deck. The city skyline stays sweet where it melts away in memories return to tie loose ends. Go back to melt to ends to melt to end to say ‘the end’ this is the end.