I drank the river dry

I sit quietly at the banks
of the river smoking my
last cigarette.
I talk to the river and the
river talks back to me.  

My Storm coat does its
best to keep me warm
and dry
But I am cold and alone.  

My thoughts are dank like
the sky for I have drank the
river dry

A cloud bursts another tear
duct
The wind cries in the rain

But I don’t cry for I have drank
the river dry

I’m like a weather vane spinning
in the wind.
Rudderless and lost.
Crestfallen.  

But I do not cry for I have drank
the river dry.