We sit here

In almost complete

Silence.

It's not warm enough

To fish quite yet

With our

Beer guts and

Shoes with no socks

Awaiting lures

And bait

We'll take the food

Court instead

Pant legs rising to our shins

Showing arthritic ankles

Our jaws they tremble

White hairs on our chins

As we mumble

Dentures secure,

But every once in a while

We slur our words

A little drool

A little spittle

Just sitting here

Till fishing season.

This becomes my

Own private addiction

Taken to my personal place

I withdraw from sharing my space

No more social distractions

Just me and this habit forming

Taking me deeper into the lies

And deception

Slowly I become what I am not

Roll and tumble

Fall in folly

Losing myself

Like a pilgrim without a map

My compass is broken

Navigational retreat

Two red bulls

My own personal

Pot of coffee

An eighth

Some pain killers

A pack of newp's

A little nyquil

Some vodka

And celexa 20 mils

Elated sedation

A body in chaos

Pull the trigger

You know you want to

Just one little click

And it's all over

The screaming

The internal bleeding

Sleepless nights

And voices in conflict

The hopelessness

The emptiness

Send my corpse

To burn

Send this body

To rot

I don't care

I won't be here