sober

Waking is like

Sleeping

Save for

blast furnace

always consuming

The thirst

Is never slaked

The sweats

Your skin

Always red

All day permanent

Skin dry

Eczema

Dehydrated

Malnutritioned

Stomach bloated

In a grotesque

Parody of a

slowly

Starving child

Hands soft like a newborns

I make my

Way to the fridge

Shaking,squinting at the early light

Stomach

heaving

Taste of

Vomit

Still clinging

To my tounge

Looking for the

Golden liquid which

Will cool the fever

And enslave me

Again

Shouting about politics poetry freedom

Hours later

At a shithole bar

With fellow indentured

Servants

Lying to each other

And ourselves

Until tomorrow

When

It begins

again

always

And we move

quickly one day

Closer

To the sleep

That rots