Incessant Binge

 Poetry 15

Fetishizing self-destruction from the comfort of a couch

Sticky leather in the summer heat

Sweat and anger pointed like a gun

Again, every year, summer-winter cycle

Frozen emotions or barbarous rage

Suffocated under reckless drinking

Binges every weekend and hangovers to shame

the hanged dog with no memory

of what came before or after

Wondering what matters in a tailspin

other than righting the ship

Blown to bits, holes and chipped splinters

Slept on like a bed of nails

as self-inflicted punishment

for the control that evades me

For someone who needs to be in it

I give it away

Melting back into someplace

no one can find me, reach me, teach me

what I'm doing and

what I'm running from