Discovery Of The Self's Broken Past

Take two for the pain,

Three more to forget.

Wake yourself

One backside of the knee

To the corner of the mattress

At a time.

Thrust your heels

Into the broken evening

Scattered across the floor.

Walk.

Toe to heel,

Miss that off-kilter floorboard

Lean to the left

To keep this man

Asleep.

Break the banister,

Or trip down the stairs.

Alongside either

Make sure

To grind your headache

And snort it.

Remember your mistakes

As an impartial observer

Of half-truths

And dizzy daydreams

Come to pass:

He tries on a pair of sunglasses

Like the skin of a man;

Simply for the sake of it

With too quick a realization

Of the self.

Specs stolen to a night.

The town.

In the evening,

The clock towers

Lie for miles.

They are moons to be sheltered from,

Omnipotent bastard children

Yearning for hope.

Some for another drink.

None to remember.

If he glances upward,

The two-handed screams

Will blind him.

So he digs his fingers

Into his thighs

And wishes they were holding

February 2009.

He wonders

If that date was right.

He knows it was not.

But I'll be damned

If I don't make

The same mistake

Tomorrow.