A Share There is a path one must walk barefoot across, it’s historical and full of bloodied jagged stones. There are moments in days when I wish I drank from that cunning and baffling disease, to have a swallow of whisky or three and four. To down that torched brown liquor wetting my lips to numb hollow’s painful grip. Yet, though I crave, I abstain from liquored spirits and instead binge on tumblers full of anger, discontent and the unanswerable dang blasted raging why’s and why me’s. There is a sister path, one must walk barefooted across full of broken memories, dark alleys, and haunted muscles that don’t forget.
© SB Joy, 2022
Seven years sitting in various 12 steps rooms. You learn a thing or two, or you run like hell cause hell and emptiness are like family.
SB Joy
SBJ Studio 