Generation X.

I recall the taste of years behind a cigarette
and it's the lifestyle that keeps me still,
struggling far from the sleeping silhouettes of time and money
that have lost all meaning in the afterglow of 4AM,
gently rocked in a high shared among friends and strangers
that strips us from our pedestals and we
are all the same for now
when substance blurs the lines of distinction to insignificance
I find myself greeting the inhibitions of old friends
brushing glances in the underbelly of the night
with fire upon glass, a revelation of the person they become
mixed with the hour's winning combination
it's this lottery of perspective that draws me
from seclusion into the damp light of a den
where judgement is forgotten and the lips that would remind us
are smiles that carve a sharpened curve between reality
this moment, I let my eyes grow heavy
in the constant spin of conversational machinery
and excuse myself from the satisfaction that will purchase
the dreams I couldn't find alone.