The Recovery Room

Little did I know
We would surely reach
The sightless perfections
Performed through broken speech

In thoughts that wander, wither and confuse
Consider me the last to leave
And the first to overuse

I’m still writing bad poetry
And you’ve made the evening news
In needs suppressed
I’m flightless and
Still your second-best

Forgetting my lines
And I’ve failed the test
Now it’s all coming back to me
What it was like to be depressed

Riding on manic waves
With the clarity of your heartbeat
The only truth that eternally saves
A severed mind
Separated and

Now firmly realigned
To truths better left unspoken
The whole world is your home
And I think you must be joking

I’m still in the recovery room
Another shitty bar on the west end
And I’m remembering what its like
To try and be low-key again

Somehow free of thought
In silence I am free,


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