Unnamed, Unbidden, Uncalled for

    The happy hazy fog
swirls about my head,
  dispelling dizzy thoughts
of a preference for the dead.

  Laconic laughing lust
takes me by the hand,
  while nearly numbed out pain
attempts to make a stand.

  Sapped silhouette of energy
burned into the ground
  and the tinker tailor twitters
with nothing more profound.

  I make quick companions
of the crevice that I crave,
  while grasping gibbous giggles
call out and misbehave.

  The happy hazy fog
swirls away from my hung head;
  doomed back to desperation,
and wishing I were dead.