rehabilitation

It is 8:11 in my bathroom a Thursday

I am a naked Hamlet shaving in the mirror

Clearing the gravel in my throat pulling

The wire from within taught

I’ll hide behind my Wyatt today who knew

Existing on hot coals blisters the feet

Just when I found them again

In the meat-market, wearing each step forward

Into last night’s night I cut

Myself with familiar awkwardness

Of searching eyes and violent kisses

To adjust myself, realise

That Life’s not all drinks deals and drunken romances.