The story repeats a million times
So common is it I shouldn’t be amazed.
A drunken bragard of personal freedom
After the triumph of another captured sun
But in the twilight of the night’s activity
As my dopamine settles back to normal
Much like a moon that seeks my eyes shut
Discomfort creeps above my shoulder
And just as my heart finds emptiness
It occurs to me in times like this
I should have known what I wanted
I should have known I wanted less.