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

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