there's still an ocean

i awoke to the groaning cloak of morning

falling through the sky

in my dreams there is a safe space to think of you and cry

but i wake and my eyes are dry

it's been a long time since i was suffocatingly high

now the rapid eye blast rips my head in half

i was as successful as the day was beautiful

in destroying myself so many times

memories nudge me awake

memories parade the cascade of crashing sunsets

today the level of recovery needed does not jive with what the day requires to survive

we live in active recovery

i cannot take the required steps back

there would be nothing left in front of me

so go find a new eternity 

perhaps only my childhood bedroom and weeks of sleep could rest this soul ache, solely mental

but it does not exist now in that form

the place where i could come home from an external war

the battle is as internal as the words that don't make my journal

write all the words

somewhere in the page you'll realize you're taking it all too seriously

true story yesterday i walked into the gym and the referee greeted me by turning around, bending over and shaking his ass at me

i can't explain this life of hilarity 

i used to think i could but now i know that life can't be understood

i'm starting to see the picture

with that i must walk out the door, sober and face the world 

on the way to work the tears fall like rain in late april

it’s like i'm still crying out every drink i ever drank

glass for glass, ounce for ounce

they pour out

and yet somehow

there’s still an ocean to be wept