Sunday, February 19, 2017


I wake up thirsty. Every day, the same
hollow vacuum in my gut. Magnetic
absence that pulls in all the emptiness
until I am full to the breaking point
with nothing. It is hard to swallow

the idea that I will never have another
drink, ever. I am told, better to keep it
in the day, while I consider it lucky
when I can get through five minutes
at a time. Prayer helps, but sometimes

it's shouting into a telephone, quiet
on the other end taking the shape
of God. Where the intersection lies
between mental health and addiction
that's where I am.  I believe in things

I cannot see, and pray that I am doing
science. I spend every day wresting
a thirst I dare not quench, if I know
what is good for me. Tomorrow, I pray
my throat tastes water and then sings.

No comments:

Post a Comment