Three times is the charm


Things we do in private

Shut the door and do your business

the type of business no one needs to know

dirty business that is difficult to scrub after a while.


The wall is cool and sticky, pressed up against it.

This is the first time ever being drunk.

head is spinning, cannot make

clear thoughts, as blue skies would sing to the sun.


Keep spinning over and over on the floor to the ceiling,

continuing to keep the door close, no one can get in

right now—we have an emergency,

the needle won’t come out and there aren’t

any words coming out, as the black chair turns again.


The pull finally comes and the white noise stops

people are there to make sure you’re more than alrighty.

We all worried and knew the endless spell of addiction

casted by melancholies’ over the lifely festive parade.

Don’t say that this first haze

had anything to do with this one life–

the drink never turned into a self-torture device.


Even if it went there, never would I stoop beyond

the lowest point of exclusion, not caring to be saved

forget the soul that was once drumming with excitement.

Shutting the door on yourself.


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