I have tasted
air where wine
once was

sobriety, they call it

no more dancing drunk
and brainless

the battle of thought and
feeling

raging on

as they force feed black coffee
drenched in sugar

sweet, but sweat
like

I favour gin
with whispers of whiskey

my left leg shaking
stomach swollen

I feel my glands swell
swell, my eyes puff
out

my chest loosen as
my morals tighten

dissociated daydreams
fade and reality
sharpens

sobriety, they call it

the slow death of
knowingness