one year gone
kept myself locked away
hidden
from the things i craved

a junkie in remission
rehab
relapse
reserved
removed
reborn
reheated
recycled
realized

gone astray
in the blinding light
of
the morning after

was it fear
punishment
self flagellation

kneeling at the pulpit
of
false desires so long
that reality and fiction
became
interchangeable cogs
in a machine
destined
for entropic misery
i don’t know

if i had a quarter
for every self doubt
i would swim
like scrooge mcduck
in a vault
of
maybe ifs
would’ve
could’ve
should’ve

and cannots

left more empty
than the last time
i swore
it was the last time
i swore to myself
never again

but the heart keeps beating
the brain keeps bleating
like a lost sheep
desperate
for a shepherd

and

i sit at the cusp
of
dreams come true

yet

it never felt
as false
as deeply unsatisfying
as lonesome

it all becomes so clear
in these
fleeting moments of clarity
why so many poets
end
their own lives

it is when you realize
that thing
that drives the words
is the thing
that leaves you feeling
the heat of one thousand suns
while on
an ever dwindling iceberg
in the ever warming seas
of discontent

and
it has been a year
and
all i want
is
to drown