The Metrist Adrift

Late Night Drive

Hung over
chasing phantoms in a
fog covered field,
grass spitting morning dew
onto my calves
and I can't believe
how far I've come.
Memories burst in clouds
of smoke
and lines of white
stinging something like
heartache
yet soothing still, like
new love.

A thought amidst the chaos:

Of all the things I've been
I think I liked myself the most.
And I wish so goddamn hard
that I could find him
out here
in this haze.