must’ve been full of heroin



there are days when life hates you

	           when ecstasy is anything but

		 	and the fact that it was three days ago 

matters amazingly little to your body.

your mouth is chewed up with sores but

at least you’ve stopped vomiting.



food is too foreign and fuzzy 

	to even contemplate		you

weaken by the hour	on your little post-e isle.



the silent phone feels like “black coffee” blues

	you emulate ella without the caffeine 

drip-drying sunday dreams	

now it’s

a sudden desire to take up knitting		 a

moronic need to act neurotic		 what

the hell was

		in that pill?