Life Everchanging

So I woke up this morning, in my car, on the side of the road. Shoes were off and the seat was let back. When I came to, it was about 9 AM.  Of course, with my various blends of meds to keep my mind in line, I was running all over the place trying to recap last night’s timeline. With a little deep breathing, I began to remember going to 2 bars before ending up a nightclub for a birthday party, already with gin pumping through my body. I remember dancing, singing, laughing and pushing my way through hordes of people to make it to the bathroom.  What’s foggy is how I ended up on the side of the road. I have never been a clubgoer, having the opportunity to be reckless, but I have also never been alone for so long.  If I were to do my on therapeutic evaluation, I would say I’m compensating for the things I’ve lost on my journey to this point in my life.  Life makes its own plan, I have learned.  I’m slowly becoming ok with that.  Even in the midst of all things considered of what I shouldn’t be doing, I am becoming more comfortable with myself every time I step outside my box. So in order to continue this progress, I guess I have to let the bad in with the good.

Searching for Numb

Searching for Numb

Swimming in gin
coated with Klonopin
drenched in the echoes
of my own thought process

with a smile I’m forging
through the baggage
of past misdemeanors looking
for the flashlight
to my future

I breathe
in Tic Tacs
in hopes of lessening
the effects of the lesions forming
on my drunken taste buds

to a degree
I’m free

yet a prisoner
to this liquor binge
I once escaped
through that gaped
hole of New Years resolutions
just to be enticed
back by memories laced
with regretful tears staining
the fear inside me

I’m lonely
holding myself, I’m lonely
inside a mind
that races the Indy
my heart rate can’t sustain
the pressures
of this life I lead
strapped up boots tracking
mud on a concious I failed
to keep clean

and it comes in waves drowning my goodness tampering
with my lock box stuffed
with ridicule and  misunderstanding

I can’t fight this entity
bloodying my prefrontal cortex spitting out inconsistencies
just call the coroner
I’m about to be DOA



posted on yesterday’s
milk carton
was a smile ain’t seen
in years

tears been flowing
since that very day
mason jars collecting
memories rest
on dusty shelves

Your touch rubbed
my skin silk
can’t imitate
the sun glowing
in eyes every time
they reflected
in mine

as I search
to restore what was
in the bottom
of this bottle broken

my heart searches
for its final stitch
on this road of recovery