Poem of the Week | With Drawals By Kevin Burke
Day one rattles with optimistic half-smiles and counting positives from that initial pain that gnaws through that first sip of coffee.
Day two falls between the cracks of an automatic life, while the buzzing of the world finds its rhythm related in the trembles.
Day three itches with insect bites moving beneath the skin and burrowing into the bone – a stale taste of failure looms in the passing smell of past pleasures.
Day four as that muscle memory flexes to childhood stresses, and the ticking becomes relentless – tap, tap, tap go the idle fingers.
Day five chews unconsciously, ravaging all everyday implements on the confectionery smudges and fear of weight.
Day something feeds a farewell to the empty pocket notions of Brando and Dean. Perhaps the mindfulness found from the slavery bound has relented.
Night arrives with its plaque of temptation. A familiar sulphur crack to stoke the alcohol haze, and hope sinks in a sickness.
Day zero in a realm of guilt, fraught with botched joy pulling anticipation from an abyss once more.
For more original poetry, check out the HeadStuff Poem of the Week and Unbound archives.
Cover photo by Pascal Meier on Unsplash
