Drift Away

I've lost to the music and I've lost to the drink. Elated to have no weight on my shoulders, I allow my head to feel light. 

I drift between thoughts and songs, giving in to the melancholy music as the voice makes me drunk. 

I let go of the tangible and drift away from myself. 

I want so much to allow the temporary to comfort me, but I feel the pain of the hangover calling to me from the future. 

Can you hear my feelings, or am I alone in my struggle to stay sane in this time of utter confusion?

Should I look at the clock and realize that I have long spent the day? 

Should I seek out a calendar to remind me that tomorrow will be yesterday when its sun sets? 

His voice lingers as his words tempt. A pure voice that lies better than a liar at his best. 

What meaning has day when I'm stuck in eternal night?