Turning in this day
Turning over in dismay
For here, as I lay,
Comforted in these sheets
A chill turns to a burning blaze
My mind trapped in a dizzying haze

Aching muscle and raspy tone
Weakness cripples every bone
Shallow comes each breath
That escapes my parched lips
To countless others it foretold death
Filmed in countless clips

But, not for I
Not in this day, not this time
Not in this peculiar rhyme
For here I shall not die

To recover
To grow stronger
Prepare for what may come
The war is not yet over
With hope, it won't be much longer
For this great disease we shall overcome.

- Jay M
June 3rd, 2021

High were the hills
That will climbed
But
My love, 
how spectacular the view.

Cocktail
Cockfail

You’re drunk again

Mixed drink
Mixed emotions

Try thinking sober

Multiple shots
Multiple plots

You keep ordering

Pitcher perfect
Picture perfect

From drunk eyes

Hungover again
Hungover pain

Still same problems

Alcohol calls
Alcohol falls

Your name again

You answer
You catch

Maintaining the pattern

Alone, afraid
Alone, unsafe

Numb the pain

You feel
You need

But you don’t

Your week
You’re weak

Put the bottle

Down now
Move on

Overcome the pain

Don’t count
Don’t love

Your buzz more

Than yourself
Than health

You got this

You can
You will

If you try


Angry sober
Happy buzzed

Sad when drunk

Regretful after
Disappointed after

But then you

Drink more
Drink none

Break the pattern

My demons can't get out of my head,
They yell so hard I'm nearly dead.
So many voices, which one do I follow?
The loudest one is full of sorrow...
I'm not myself at the moment,
Or is my true self restrained by torment?

I am not a flower.

I do not bloom just by the glorious

rays of sunshine in the spring.

I am not obliterated

by just the mere changing

of the seasons to the next.

I do not wither away when my

world starts to darken

and bitter coldness swallows up

the warmth of the sun.

I am not this fragile thing,

or delicate,

to the winter's icy storms.

The falling of dead, dull leaves

to the Earth beneath my feet

will not be the burial

to my very life source.

No.

You can not reborn something

that had never been destroyed.

I am not a flower.

I am a survivor-

in the light and in the dark.

Dizzy, dazed, and sedated,
Nightly rinse bleaching brains,
Slowly spinning me apart.
Roses flashing on screen, withered.

Worshiping at the Pantheon,
Novocaine for the brain.
My habitual easy friends.
Lust conquering love.

Lights go out!
Alone in the dark.
Guiltless shame,
I'll quit after tomorrow.

I let what you
thought about me,
and said about me,
matter more than what I
knew about me.
Way too intertwined with
your sickness and cruelty.
Far too beat down under your
brutal regime.
Nowadays, I wake up overjoyed that
I now live the obvious.
Who gives a **** what you think?