second tries are
invitations
to repeat
past mistakes
those things that
loiter
just behind
rational thought
reminders dawdling
in the shadow of actions

so the only time
i make another attempt
is as the bartender
pours three fingers
of whiskey
as the whiskey
from the night before
is clawing the inside
of my brain
to shreds

willful
in my excitement
to ingest poisons
reticent
in the face
of the face
that left me
irrevocably bent
lazily
drinking both to death

it’s a compromise
that doesn’t
force me
to compromise
the small shreds
of remaining dignity
while allowing me
to have a few moments
of quality time
with my demons

so it is a bit
like you’re still
here