from my head to my feet –
and all the parts in-between
my stomach churns acid like butter
head spins like a record player
eyes burn from sleepless nights –
when the only thing shut is the shade
my mind is alert and awake
I’ve a sandpaper tongue
when I lick my lips I cut the sides
and spit out blood in spades
my teeth have more pockets than my shirt
hunched over I’m half the person
I once was
drinking does that to ya
I don’t socialize anymore
I’d rather be alone in my discourse
grubbing for my poetry isn’t easy
on this old horse
instead of getting better as wine –
I’m getting worse