Posted in life, New Work, Poetry

Habitual Atonement

When the world’s all wobbly,
life seems on an even keel –
But that’s only when logic’s
not a high factor,
and I’m operating by feel.

I wonder if rum
or even wine
will be my downfall;
Because after multiple shots
and glasses,
I’m pleasantly numb…

It’s hard to answer the call(s)
of obligation
and happenstance
as they
occur to the dumb.

Yet, I succumb, and…
I think I never
had a chance
at normalcy
or finding belong;

It’s like life is a prelude,
death its fateful song –
Tipsy even as
I write this,
and not even sobriety
can right this.

Coconut oil my cleansing balm;
I only wonder if I’ve been doing this
completely wrong –

Only time will tell,
its passing
and measuring judgment
is an uncertain level of Hell.

I miss the time where
perceived right
was acceptable escutcheon –

And yet…

It’s my atonement
habitual repugnance.


Curating Personal Year 9. Wife and mom of 3. Writer. Zentrovert. Aspiring Engineer. Resident Badass.

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