in the light of a gas station's windows

on the dark dawn of the brightest day

in the light of a gas station's windows

the scent of cigarette smoke 

the sound of punk

i sat there with my hands at my sides 

my head leaning against the unforgiving brick wall

the biluminous waste of my pick of poison rising from my hand

entering and exiting my lungs

many before me and many to come

would give up at this point

this seems to be rock bottom 

but for me it's the exposition to my story

that night i smoked a whole pack

listening to the songs that make me feel like maybe there's something out there

so i got up and walked into the rising moon

and i never looked back