Brick by Brick

I drank last night,

pushed against the edge of myself,

a knife grazing the surface of who I am.

The music and medication swirl

a cacophony of numbing noise and forgotten ambition.

I tried to touch God in the haze,

but my hands slipped through the fog of a dark headspace.

If cells could speak, would they cry for renewal,

or sink deeper into a void?

Yet I feel the embers,

small flickers of something that remains.

I want to travel,

to step into a world where beauty meets nourishment,

to feel life brick by brick,

the awe of wonder returning to my soul.

Honor me, the fragments say,

build me anew,

so that I may breathe as one.