to have made a choice:

                                           delirium...

or as some like to call "her":

      de-lirka...

               it really takes
much of what's otherwise
the coherent matebolism....
     it's ****** exhausting in common
parlance...

come night, and 1am...
                  shaking...
    delirium smacks head on with
the banner...
                    it's hardly
fidgeting when you have to
contemplate brushing your
teeth,
                     smelly slippers
and a maine **** male sleeping
in your bed
              trying to explain to him
the monopoly on pedigree breeding
                with castration to make
"ends meet"...

                    funny how my
"addiction" fizzles out of without
a need for a:
  that place where rich people
go to, to be cured?
             what's the name?
  ah! rehab...
                   poland is a rehab
for me...
               i get to visit my
        grandparents
and read a book...
    
   last time i checked i have
managed
                    to promise myself
reading a three tier sequence
of the Sienkiewicz trilogy,
i.e. concerning the Swedish deluge...
a book entitled potop...
   which translates as deluge...

                100 shaky stephens later
and i'm still either
(a) cold,
    or (b) having an alcohol withdrawl
symptom known as delirium...
   via
          (c) thank **** it's a silent
movie...
  through to
   (d) do electric sheep live
                           among pixel hills?

put me back in my native land,
i'll be found feeding a flock
of sparrows in a Warsaw bus-station
and sobering up,
                     feed me polish television,
radio...
          sleeping in a room overlooking
a graveyard...
              rehab what?
            Ahab?! oh,
you mean: taming the mob
                            / taming moby?
however you put it: richard
dickly squat the third...
            
    but you know what i found the most
apprehensive when talking to
a homeless man, once upon a time?
you know what he said to me?

   verbatim: my mother told me to only
say the truth...
          that's scary, that's
                         an Ed Gein variation...

funny that, eh, delirium...
   for people who haven't drank to
the excesses i have:
   delirium is a myth...
           even if it isn't cold,
you're twitching, not because
you're nervous...
            not even that it's cold...

more so, the welcome return
to "rehab"...
                      dragging your feet
to borrow from mr. slouch
      a gluttunous shadow...
        that just stinks of anorexia
and games of counting toothpicks
              anyway...

          if you never experienced
delirium...
             you've never experienced
delirium...
             hangovers are for *******.