So why didn’t they lash
out at me, bombard me
with
questions, search my stuff,
smell my breath, something?
Do they just not want
to know for sure, stress
themselves with such
wisdom?
Or have they, perhaps,
simply given up
on me?
That Feeling
Of wanting to sleep,
desperately needing sleep,
fighting the monster for sleep,
reminds me of one reason
I have been happy to leave
the meth in Hunter’s wake.
Though it’s calling to me,
Just one more little toot,
I simply will not give in.
I will keep the monster in
check. I am stronger
than any addiction. Right?
Somewhere, a telephone
rings. I swim up into gray
afternoon, the inside of
my head thick as chowder,
tug myself from bed,