Monday

Emotion writhes under my skin
as sobriety kicks in.
I feel my function
fuck up
and
fuck away.
I am angry.
Can you hear me
kick
and scream?
Pour me a glass of red
I said
Pour me a glass of red.
It hurts
to feel
human
again.
My heart aches
my mind quakes
I am
vulnerable.
There is no film on this day.
No haze
to ease my pain
blind my sight
silence my angst
the rushing of
thoughts
and blood pulse
in my skull
beating a tempo
with no –
I said
Pour me a glass of red –
care for anyone
but
its own.
I am
alone
alive
how can I
survive this
bleeding sobriety
cutting me up
with
blinding white honesty.

4 thoughts on “Monday

    1. Hope Sara Post author

      Thank you Andrea. I’m really pleased with the recordings. I think they add a fantastic new dynamic. I tried it with a few older poems and it didn’t work. I think it’s suitable for some, but not all. Love to you, as always, and thank you for your ongoing support!

      Reply

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