Sad Reflection of Dead Ambition

Never really knew the time,
Washed up memory
Ghosts of yesterday
All creating shattered realities
Shallow visions like prophecy
On the edge of sanity

Waiting for a slip
A stop to start and end
To wake to the sound
Of car alarms
And crying dolls
Dressed for daily circumstance
If not coincidence

Happenstance
And second chance
Third and fourth
Like a chant
Down and out
But never for the count

One, to
Two
Never three

Strikes and then you're
Out
Just before the lights
They flash
And the night
It breaks

Like a wave
Don't we have?
Another and another
In the mirror

Images of youth
And age
Needles and spoons
Bottoms of bottles
And denial

Maybe just systematic
Automatic
Promises and near
Misses
Going through the paces

Just sad reflections
Of dead ambition.