the missed spaces, the missed places, the missed times, the missed rhymes, the missed persons I could have been or will be, the fear that restricts me, the choices that elate me, the food that prolongs, the life that kills and opens and winds up and scares and tears and screws, inspires and heightens and pitches and rolls and drowns and crowns and takes hold of and molds and breaks and pours into and empties and burns.

and here we steal away together

america's drug of choice ∆ invisible weapon

i’m 33. i spent 20 years drinking. numbing. not knowing. forgetting. i spent 20 years loving a poison.

i built an alter to my choice. to be sober. i build an alter to me. '

day 15. i feel anger continue to separate in-from me. fat raises to the surface of raw milk.

day 16. i know the anger is not me. it is the poison.

day 17. i miss the numbing. its ease. a thick blanket to pull over my head. too much. feeling

you stole an infinity of moments from me. you tricked me into loving-needing you and nothing else will do. you convinced me of the others hate reflecting off the mirror we hid behind,

alone, invisible, and safe,

from responsibility.



each moment, an infinity, awaits my sobriety.

an upsidogi garden∆planting-nurturing-honoring intuition

things that happened that hurt ∆ things i did that felt good