TRIP INTO THE MIST

I want to share this poem that I wrote last night after my 15th month of sobriety which was  last November 24th. I had travelled back by reviewed on myself in the past for what kind of emotions, experiences, relationships, views, thoughts, behaviors, and spirit I had in last 25 plus years with the chemical dependence. Here is the poem...

   
TRIP IN THE MIST

All darkening mist is rolling from the nowhere,
not right in place it goes,
even not a place is found;
the city makes distance to each empty home unending from the lust to what should be,
and meddled into the world that's all surrounded.

And from the cemented fences, rings the dab of docility, in mist enclosure;
it's tempest, lest the lost finds it alone and naked to city ;
it's not native;
it's lustful of what could only cast.

The back alley lights lean their dimmed rays showing the truth in their own way,
as if they might leap out from nowhere and seize the arms  by the prick in and cast its down into abysmal darkness,
where it would beg for end the trip.

It swims into multiplied tunnels,
where minds go insane,
as the superficial, mercilessly, loves are they've only had,
but it will beg all night, when it's, solely,
crawling into the transparent has known, and that's what makes its decision so lost.

It begs for lust,
that does never to be over,
like only users scream to, instinctively, consume,
but all it finds are bodies begging on what it has indulgence from darkness to the grey mist,
and none could be my friend.