and and and

sometimes the thoughts are bottled up like black oil

and the ink smears like little blood drops

and every sweetness turns bitter

and heavy smoke intrudes and sinks like fog

and each rain is a hurricane

and the steps are far and in between

and the routine becomes a rut

and the hands tick tick so slowly like a sinking ship

and the dogs growl and show white teeth in the dark shadows

and drinking becomes a habit

and each scar raises like goosebumps 

and turns purple in the cold shower

and coping is impossible

and every tremor is and earthquake in the heart

and each steady breath is reassurance of tomorrow

and the possibility to be anything but me.