Intrinsic distinction
Public justification of
Dissolved disillusions-
Delusional dysfunction.
Call it protocol, call it
Fuckitol, call it
Medication of salvation.
Those desperate endeavors.
Said with no regret, and
Spoken in staggered motion, with
Softly strong bold notions,
No hold could keep me
No pill to sleep me,
Sweetly, still and bitter ill
Is rippling the shadows
Of hollow fill.
And fed me rotting gut tubes
Glued to doom, the dreaded shade
Of shame’s false face
And traded grace for
Fate in pairs, no snare could state
How simply slaughtered was this day
So long ago.
Splintered glass ripped shards to blow
Open stitches sinking under skin
And again, and again
It went like this.
Again, and again,
It came to this.
Again, again,
It ends like this.

Regretting something said or done
In sobriety
While ******.
Mostly social interactions I suppose
Things I think I shouldn't speak,
Maybe its just me.
Why can't I see the common line
That divides this communal collective
Of what's generally perceived as
Normal.
Maybe its just not in me.
And maybe something's
                                                          Missin­g.
Like its
                 Not
                             Quite
     ­                                       T h e r e .
But nowhere else,
Either.
So maybe if you make me a
Map
Of the way humans should stay on path
I should take it
Like everyone else but I'm gonna have to
Pass on that
Because it would still only be just
As useless as the next thing
Or other
Neither will stitch the pathways like veins
To a translucent permeable
Sieve of a person
Cause these preset standards and demands
Are too much to ask for
The place of blood in these
Hollow vessels.
I should know,
See I've bled myself dry.
I'll scratch at my scars when they itch
But I'll ditch your insistent opinion about it,
Cause I don't need that ****,
Don't need nothin' and not needed.
Just stuck in between lines
On this compass of life
The clock of time
And the lines in my skin.
Wearing the world with
Mirrors for eyes.
Stare in all you like
There's nothing behind
But the knowing I'll never fully describe
Anything to anyone
In a way that is what I mean;
It isn't words that fail me,
But my unfathomable capacity to
Comprehend at all, and if I
Were to conceive a consciousness
Could I ever really communicate to you?
I don't think so, but
I won't ever know.
...
I wonder what sober me
Would say right now.