paycheck to paycheck, bottle to bottle,
i've found a home on the floor of a
stranger's home at four in the morning,
half-drunk, numbed to the pain of the
outside world.

i woke up this morning with an ache
in my jaw, a pit in my stomach,
a craving for loss of brain cells,
as if alcohol could truly **** the pain,
or me.

i've tried to **** the monsters in me
with drugs and drinks,
on more than one occasion,
and if sober is our default,
why is it so **** difficult?