The Full Collapse.

My apartment building is set for demolition 

And I am not ready for this. 

I am not amused or ready for this. 

The safety, the comfort, my dwelling is all I have. 

To change my ways now, at this age is terrifying. 

Anxiety and my inner monologue have over powered

the landscape of my being, and now,

the craving for liquor courage won’t subside. 

It’s like losing my cellphone and every time

I think about how often I want to drink. 

This is how it is now and the downward spiral

has me coming undone, like a ball of yarn and a viscous cat,

I don’t stand a chance.

The effort needed to put myself back is daunting.

I should ask for help but I don’t want to be a burden. 

But my body is now set for demolition and 

I have no choice but to ready myself for this. 

I am used to it and it’s getting heady in here. 

The home, and protector, of my life giving places

Is dying and I am terrorizing the life giving to me. 

Society and my outer persona are bogged down and

sticky with clover honey and fleeting in a way

That’s making me sicker all over inside. 

It’s like I’m oozing with unknowns and I’m

Silently shouting relentlessly for my shrink. 

Whispers from family and strangers are viral

And in hear their concerns, like barn owl and echo location,

if they only knew how long ago I relapsed and

 it’s becoming a most obscene dance of faking happiness,

but things hurt, my 

fair weather friends. I think stay in today,

for my apartment building is set for demolition.