They Say

there’s always
an eye opening
moment
before sobriety.

The first time
for me was the
morning after
waking up

having dranken
from the tank my
miramo moss ball
was floating in.

i remember
drunk as fuck

lifting the
cold orb
into my palms

and pouring
its contents
down my throat

until it was
nearly
half empty.

it could
have been
poisonous.

Those Eyes Have Seen Things Now

One of my
neighborhood
best friends
growing up

is a
wanted fugitive
for possession
and dealing of

“controlled
substances”

we used
to play

“Can’t Touch
the Ground,”

“Kick the Can,”

and shoot
each other
with
squirt guns.

Listen to
Weird Al

and try
to wear
moon shoes.

you used to
put ice cubes
in your milk,

and get
teary-eyed
watching
“Short Circuit.”

But,
your mug shot
is a fraction
of yourself;

and you were
never big.

what happened
between then
and now,
my old friend?

your family
doesn’t know
where you are.

What
made you
Not want
to Be found?

Distant

gambly gook

no matter
how inebriated
or tired
my body
has enacted
upon ourself,

i always
want to
go to
the
casino.

i want
to be
where
the air
is full
of crutch;

my natural
habitat.

like prey
to predator,
predestined
to be
scavenged
upon
by
my own
bad decisions

I relish
to exist
in the
aura
of accepted
reliance.

shuttle me
to
the arena
where all
substance
abuse
and habitual
self-destruction
are glorified.

after all
this
healthy

my body
yearns
to be 

drug

with
all who
walk in

down
down
down.