A little something to take the edge off
To make me a more well-rounded person
To loosen those edges
And what now?
Hey.
Pay attention to me.
Hey.
It’s hard to write with a glass of bourbon in one hand
and half a decade’s worth of confusion in the other.
It’s hard to say what I want to say.
Whatever the fuck that is.
Pour me another.
We had no camera so we made frames with our hands,
blinked to fire the shutter and held the picture
with faces squeezed shut,
gone from the world for those moments
as we tried to emblazon the image
onto the insides of our eyelids,
where it would hang for viewing with every blink,
its presence in every dream.
Is there a magic formula for
waking up with more resilience?
A certain position to sleep in, a
particular temperature to set the
thermostat to, perhaps a single thought
to cling onto like a parachute
while drifting down to the ground, to sleep.
I think I cracked it last night
but I might not be able to
repeat the feat tomorrow.
Bubbles pressing against my back
make me feel like I have intestines again
and they are slowly unravelling
knots untangling
stress releasing
troubles fading
into no –
thing.
