I'll Have, Whatever, She's Having

Make it, a double, please.

Feel so useless

Like a fifth wheel

On a tricycle.

At the unfolding madness

That inhabits

My daily world.

Wanting to scream

"Make it stop"

At the top

Of my lungs.

But

I know

How futile

Such a gesture is.

As a sorrowful sigh

Is released

With whatever hope

I have.

Wondering

Would it better

To move through life

Comfortably numb

Without a single care

What happens

Around me?

Knowing

I can't be

Hurt

Anymore.

Author's Note

For the record, I don't drink alcohol. My last time, I did try it, my face turned fire engine red, after 3 slips of a vodka cooler, in August 2000.