Day 4

No one told me about the nightmares.  No one told me

about the sweats and the shakes and the shits

and the fucking nightmares.

Last night I binged

with my brother and had to explain to my mom why

he was passed out on the kitchen floor, apologize

for hooking him on this ride.  She screamed at me,

cried.  I think she slapped me, and my brother

tried to hold her back but couldn’t even stand.

I couldn’t tell her when or why we started drinking,

and that’s when I woke up.

                                 Bed sheets plastered with

that god-awful sweat, heart pounding in my throat,

I realized it was a dream.  It’s not fair, feeling

like shit all day, just to fall asleep and think

I’m awake, putting everyone through

an emotional garbage disposal.  Makes me wonder,

why bother keeping up the act?  I don’t give a shit

what the dream means.  I don’t want a sponsor.

I know how to stop the nightmares, but

this goddamn program won’t let me.

One response to “Day 4

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