Catastrophic Rotation

This a good night for
Certain mixtures
Not allowed to drink that whiskey
whispering my name
from that cabinet across the room.
Would one drink kill me
or fell me into a deep sweet sleep?
Anticoagulants and Alcohol
make for a sudden change in direction
where face down could be
the daisy push up of last rights
but then that would be something better
than the pain which constantly
reminds me that I am alive.
Maybe there could be a dream
more pleasant than a cerebral hemorrhage.
Yet REM escapes into the night
leaving a derailed train on both sides
of the tunnel of if it’s not one thing it’s another
which is an objection to the obvious.
At least the tightness has left the confines
of my skeletal cage and breathing
is abnormally normal for now
the tilt-a-whirl spins out
into the torrential rain of which
the sound once brought comfort
but for now I am clearly irritated
and wondering if just for tonight
mother nature could just shut up.
Against my better judgment
I have better judgment
wondering what’s the point
of lying in the fetal position
when there is no womb?
The need of medication is the only thing
stopping me from the run away and hide
thoughts or desires cramming themselves
into my skull
the voices are so loud it sounds
of mass meditation
the word relax floats by
Nausea is overtaking my rationale
and I am craving a cool glass of water

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