cotton wool

cotton wool

 

i used to drink special brew

for breakfast,

claret

and ice cold san miguel

 

work days i’d take a codeine chaser

 

that was when i worked for children’s services

the collapse of lives

spilling over a standard issue telephone

bruises, battering and rape

forcing my computer screen

to a stammer

 

the nights howled

as the woman i loved fucked her boyfriend

whilst i lashed myself to a seasick single bed

squalls of loneliness

unpicking me.

 

2 years

8 months

8 days on

i live sobriety

 

people remind me it’s a triumph

 

some days i can cheerlead myself

into that triumph

 

most days are like cotton wool

impossible to shape;

far softer to fall against.

 

neutered

i sense the weight of reality

around every corner

no longer understand escape

cannot recall living life along its edges

 

the NHS literature

tells me to watch for anger,

warns against being a dry drunk

 

i have no need to watch for anger

 

it stalks me,

perched when i wake

gaping at me

when i scrabble for sleep,

imprinting my relationships

 

it bawls like an endless halo of migraine light

constricts my chest

into spirals of control

 

tighter

with each glass of sparkling mineral water and lime

 

every day

i shallow-breathe

sobriety.