“the night before christmas eve”

I drink coffee as a blindfold to the foul mood I am in.
I drink liquor as a babydoll worn by the woman I am with.
I drink cinnamon in cider as a warmly spiced beverage.
I drink water with my bread to remind myself this is prison.

My heart does not feel broke,
but if you shake me
I rattle like a box of porcelain.
No, my heart does not feel broke,
but it probably forgets how good it feels to sin.

This morning I woke up to an alarm
that had not been set
since I had a job.
This morning I woke up to an alarm
that I am nearly thirty
and not yet proficient in my own skin.

narrative poem written on 12-23-2009 by: on mattkane.com
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