By Benjamin Rodriguez

I’m dying, not because my brain has ceased all explosive, obligatory function
reducing me to a vegetative state, rotting on the vine
my mother holds, keeping me there
only she remembers my nonbeing being connected to her
once and every so often, it feels all the same

my eyes are smashed in, bruised, “Who hurt you”, which is never a question I
can answer without opening a book, checking my phone, drinking coffee with a single
espresso shot to just keep me aware enough of what I am saying

sobriety is something I took for granted as I am easily addicted, hooked, and devastated
I am dying because the caffeine I ingest is refusing to touch my heart again

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