the art of getting by

wake up, breathe, stretch,            count

the ways in which you are blessed

one, two,            forever

adrenaline coursing through my veins

my feet, immovable, as if bound by

each heartbeat, a war drum, rhythmic, fast

in my mouth, the taste of bile

this, the sort of flip-a-coin moment

blind to what the next one might contain

but then it is over, then it is done

the fabric of my life now blighted, stained

they say memories fade, ephemeral, gone

but this one is heavy, as if bound by

one, two,

one 

two

one