live with a parasite
murderer-- life on the outside
recover . still dying
force yourself, have desire

sucking life
I am allowing
you drive knives
whispering sweet somethings

letters from a jailhouse
meant more than
stars in the sky
flown from fingertips

a boy slipped
into manhood
who had no one
else to write.

As I rot living
better life
supposed I look fine
you deteriorated

make way, much more
part of recovering
strength to make decisions
which will ultimately benefit

Am I leaving
I can indulge
with anyone, save you
hypocrite.

a sandstorm in my head
craning my neck
sight has deserted
I cannot quench my thirst.

my eyes
being stung
miniscule rocks which whirl
in doves.

Though I am
clean
today, I feel
gritty.

about relapsing
you said,
you always said
you’d leave me.