i cannot hope my feelings will wane
with my fever leaving me once again
healthy. in charge of my emotion.
it’s april and the sun has yet to shine
leaving me today groping around in
the dusk from dawn until the end of
dusk as there’s nothing between.

in three months i’ll have a city. but
for now i’ve nothing but a thread to hold
so weak it would break if i used it to
floss

i cannot hope tomorrow will change
with my switch from beer to gin in
hopes for something better, stronger.

but when reality hits three months from
now and out from under your thumb
i emerge stronger and brilliantly naive
ready to engage in something like battle
ready to do something like conquer