TENTH DAY

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TENTH DAY

STARTED AS ALWAYS,

A SOB THAT CHOKED,

MORNING NOON AND NIGHT,

WITHOUT FAIL.

 

DIDN’T MATTER WHAT DRUGS I TOOK,

TO DROWN THE HOLLOWED SOUL,

NO MATTER WHAT I DRUNK…

I DIDN’T EAT, EVERYTHING TASTED LIKE ASHES.

 

THEN IT WAS EVERY OTHER DAY,

ONE TO DEAL WITH  ADMINISTRATION,

ONE TO DEAL WITH ACHING EMPTINESS…

RAIN OR SHINE, VODKA OR WINE.

 

OVER MONTHS FREQUENCY SLOWED,

FOUND THINGS TO STAVE OFF TEARS,

PAINTING OR FISHING IT TIED UP TIME,

AND MY MIND WAS OCCUPIED.

 

BUT STILL, ON EVERY TENTH DAY,

THE TEARS FLOOD IN LIKE A BURST CISTERN,

AND THERE IS NO HOPE,

AND THERE IS NO JOY,

AND THERE IS NO GIRL,

AND THERE IS NO BOY,

YOU ARE NOT YOU.

AND I AM NOT I…

AND I HATE THIS FAKE REALITY…

BECAUSE THERE IS NO REALITY,

WITHOUT YOU.

AND I AM,

WITHOUT YOU.

 

DALE ‘M’

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