The following was written between September 17th and 30th, 2018
Not three weeks sober
Suppose I am doing fine
But it’s a long road
These countless mistakes
Hanging, trapped in a cocoon
Becoming wisdom
Nearly a month clean
Before that comes one month
Since the wheels came off
It all led me here
Chaos compounded by fear
The flower has blossomed
Mouthwash tastes like booze
I almost drank some last night
Perennial trash
An alcoholic
Who thought he had lost the thirst
That ache hasn’t left
Kick these doors open
Let the wind torment this place
Cast away what was
Sky ripe with darkness
With nothing left to be said
I am haiku’d out
