It’s a vulgar image, 
the fucking truth. 
It sounds so ugly, 
revolting. 

Yet, I return to my addiction, my defaults, my fixes that leave scars, inside and out. I run north, south, east and west from my vomit only to find I’ve return back to where I started. Standing in my mess, I can’t out run all my sorrows that are. My insides are spilled out in a puddle splattering in the four directions. 

I am a mutt 
returning to my own vomit, 
lapping it up 
like a fresh meal. 

Wagging my tail 
thinking for a moment... 
...this is glory.

© SB Joy, 2022

What is your default shortcoming? Your default fix?

SB Joy

One thought on “Four Directions

  1. No Ho says:

    A very gross truth for me too!

    Like

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