One thread came loose with alcoholism at a very young age.
She recovered. She forgot and proceeded.
One thread was yanked loose by a growing tendency to self sabotage.
She clawed her way out of the spiral.
One thread pulled at others when she learnt she didn’t need alcohol to have a good time.
She felt deprived by self-restraint. So she slightly caved.
One thread burned along with her personality when she became a stoner again.
She was suffocated yet high.
One thread was singed by ****.
She fell back into her ***** habits. She found herself here, but not quite present.
She became dependant. As she flooded her body parts with superficial happiness, just a quick release, her mouth grew dry. Then the peeling skin on her stained lips began to stick together and she regressed into a still and faded silence. In the end, she was in shreds and blissfully unaware, alone with nothing but one solitary thread left to grasp at.

Robotic legs, robotic arms some how lead me to the kitchen.
Once I get there, I mean no harm until I can't tell the direction.

Between what is right and what is wrong, and miscommunicated affection.

I drink the poison back as it beckons me and I can't find the description.

Between what is pain, and what is loss, and what is simple addiction.

Oh help me father, oh help me mother. I don't believe in religion.

But tonight I'll pray that the next day doesn't have so much conviction.

Robotic legs and robotic arms made me take the knife, and robotic legs and robotic arms made me write this fiction.

Things feel different when you’re drunk,
Things feel rubber when you’re drunk

June 29th, 2017
It’s been 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
For 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
Count the acidic tree rings
Nearly 504;
Bright
A.m. eyes
On East Ferry,
in contrast of noir
I say, man;
June 29th, 2017.

It’s time to get a new calendar,
Cause I count 5,000 dollars later
and not a sense of a cent
was fined for my remorse.

I’ve been fine and fined.
Holes in my pockets
dropping seeds of change
planting fines

Into puddles
and potholes
showing deep interest
into the alignment of my car
stalling my engine with debts.

19,000 dollars and growing later;
I learned what trigger warnings cost
and ironically
I wrote a paper on it.

Don’t get me, wrong I am grateful
But, I had to rip holes
into all my jean pockets.
I mean, **** it,
I never had much going in
And I should quit smoking
My lighter is dead
Only blue and red
Sparks lived well in my mirrors
On, June 29th, 2017.


From the wall I was chained to,
I enrolled into college
My mom drove me home from my first class.
My lawyer wasn’t much of a lecturer,
He spoke math for 1,400 dollars

250 and 9 weeks.
106 a month for 52.

That’s enough math for this semester.

I drank with my night instructor on Mondays after 9,
He wanted to hear my music
We drank whiskey salted potholes on Allen
I counted his tree rings to 4/4 measure in regret;
20 years steady.

I graduated on a Tuesday morning,
I didn’t call him back to thank him for the irony.

I acknowledged our acidic rings
With glass cheered laughter
Swallowing thanks for each other’s company.
9 weeks and I don’t recall ever leaving the room.
43 went after,

And today life is that,
Paid for in lessons,
No need for pockets

I am those potholes
bumping coffee all over me
20 mins late to my first class.
I can repave them
but they won’t stay filled
It’s OK to want smoother roads to school.
I’m late but I’m here

I’m a mess.
******* would see art.
People have his eyes on me.
I want to be framed and splattered
on the walls of your home
A household mess .
It’s OK to have a passion.

Look into my tree rings
How old am I?
Its restorative to count
27 rings of rebirth
Look at me still growing
I believe I can grow in Paradise-lost fire
Or in Buffalo salt

I am my flaws
I counted them

My alcohol abuse,
One beat of 2,653 in 2017
I don’t know how to put an apology
On a music sheet.


The Jazz fills my potholes in the morning
before these hallways

My grey area is stained glass in Villas library,
Each step is eclectic
From shoe up and over is stand still art

Lighters flash cigarettes burning
But prints pictures of thankful new memories

With all of you in it.
Thank you for helping me with today’s date.

Rip off the band-aid, get it over with
I never thought it would come to this
Clear mind, clear eyes
Walking straight, no more lies

Don't rely on me and I won't let you down
You can't count on me, I'll only let you down
Don't reach out for me, I'll only let you drown

These feelings are getting harder to fight myself
Pulling teeth to admit I need some help
It's cutting deep on the webbings of my hand
Eyes wide open in a pile of sand

Tell me how is it I can fix this
Walk around the house feeling like a misfit
How can I numb this without a drink
Emptying bottles in the kitchen sink

Clean my wounds with a bottle of Jack
Drinking my way to forget the past
You followed me into the pits of hell
Just to show you that I can't get well

Don't rely on me and I wont let you down
You can't count on me, I'll only let you down
Don't reach out for me, I'll only let you drown

My dad told me when you quit drinking
You finally hear the birds sing
On chirping mornings or dimming evenings
That will now be remembered
Every January through December, from here on out
Now I count every rose petal and press them in books
Jumping onto roofs, but not jumping off them
No more praying on cold bathroom floors
Finally live up to all the promises I made
When I was nothing but a shaking core
Who didn’t ask for help, but begged
To hear the birds again

I woke up with my head full of rocks and my stomach a butterfly museum

With several trying to escape up the back of my throat

Pain racks the rest of my body in waves

My brain is stripped of all that happened in the last 24 hours

Regret washes over me- only softly because...

At least for a moment I felt nothing

For a moment I was not reminded of this dull empty ache between my ribs

For a moment my head was in the clouds and my body was up there with it

The clouds were more like vapor I suppose

Surrounding my head in swirling patterns

Blocking every ugly view

Including my own reflection and the intentions behind it

The people around the mirror were only fuzzy thoughts

Only in the back of my mind do those people exist

And with every swallow they become further and further muddied in the darkness

Not one possible consequence riddles my thoughts

Only when the sun rises and I peel open my dry eyes do I think for a moment

And even full of regret I will do it again tonight.

I have began to have so many good days that I forget the bad.
But when the bad days begin to ebb and flow back to shore,
I can feel the currents of a tsunami.

I stand on top of the tallest building
as I watch the wave rush in,
the force nature taking demolishing my sanctuary.
My progress.
My safety.
My recovery.
I watch as all of it fades away.

And then it recedes,
slowly,
painfully,
leaving a broken, ****** mess in it's wake .

It's a mess
that I will have to clean up.