at least i know when i've had enough.

my body hung sack limp

over the chipped stone balcony

and i wondered if anyone would hear the splat

if i had the nerve

or less sense.

i touched two fingers

to my uvula

and waited for my stomach

to make its climb.

the sky was beneath my feet

and i clung to my concrete ceiling.

i produced nothing but spit

that traveled unburdened

to broken bottles

and cigarette butts of tonight

and of yore.

when my head sustained gravity

i weaved through bodies,

side stepping, seeking

out a trash can or a bowl

or a joint to calm

the untamed seas

of my gut.

upon reaching my bedroom

(how did i ascend the stairs?)

i emptied myself into

a pay stub filled bin.

the juices smelled sweet.

i removed my clothes.

my body felt soft. i smelled like a bar

and i relished

in my nakedness.

it was 12:30 in the morning.

other bodies were still raging

and laughing and breaking

household items

i'd set fire to either way.

i slept and didn't

dare dream.