Being loved,
when no one asked,
is a weird feeling.

Sponsor numbers,
and Ibprophen,
reading,
feeding,
what's for breakfast tomorrow?
Hope with a guilty side,
Chinaski hidden in a,
recovery library,
words to the poet,
a secret vice,
are nostalgic tremors,
a giggle for the unknown,
terminal uniqueness,
and a desk map with no ****,
pray for the piggly wiggly roommate,
the hope overpowers the guilt,
and the coffee makes,
me smile,
a good day,
a better,
turn,
click.