Binge

This means nothing, apparently
In efforts to convince myself it seems
I’ve come to grips with this
With what? I’ve lost my grip
on what?
‘Cause after all now, this means nothing
Or at least, that’s what I’ve made of it
 
This means nothing, I tell myself that
This means nothing, convincingly
Still I reach out to be clean
Can I rid myself of this?
  Lying here, face down, facing nothing
knowing that’s where we are going
Another sunrise witnessed from the wrong side
Another quiet night arranging thoughts in my mind
Staring blankly, waiting patiently for
Another sunrise greeted with this half-smile

Will I ever greet the day
with something more than this half-smile?
This inability to let it all go
Will I ever greet the day
Willing to make room for a smile?
Willing to let it all go
To let it all go?