Staring into the Reflecting Pool

Staring into the reflecting pool,
I don't see myself,
I see the husk of a young man
who's had too much to smoke,
too much to drink, too little
to love. He may as well
be a ghost, haunting the world
with the flutter of his heart,
stalking pretty faces with each step,
but afraid to say, "Hello,
how're you?" Needing lorazepam
for each kiss, each hug,
each moment shared looking
into another's eyes.