I am invincible

I have wine on Tuesday afternoon and cry with vigor.  I drink Vodka on Thursday afternoon and go to gym.  I was unplayable on Friday night.  I drank on Saturday night.  I was tipsy last night.  I am dazzling – I wing it at work while looking them in the eye.  I speak with confidence: loudly and with passion.  It’s my game.  I take my medication, I outrun despair.  I live my day, I feel distressed, I take a sleeping pill, I feel nothing.  I get anxious, I take a pill, I feel removed.  My body can’t sit still, I buy a couch, I buy a sound system, I buy a Pringle suit.  I take over a meeting; I gouge out my figure and only notice when someone asks why it’s bleeding.  Then I stop for milk, love my kids, send an email, sleep and dream up a different world.  I chase this thing, I feed the beast.  The music is getting louder in my car; the beat is getting faster, the words more meaningful, my driving more erratic.  The exhale on my Craven A just that much more satisfying.  I reach for combustion and containment  – anything that feeds the god complex but promises to let me root in the touchable – I reach for Daniel, Chuma, Tony, Jesus, booze, an ear, coffee, affirmation, skinny jeans, work, compassion, meds, acceptance, a cigarette, sunglasses, cheesecake, DSTV, the departures lounge.  Always reaching.  Always about to find my footing. Stumble, crumble and change direction.  If I keep opening doors, the possibilities are endless; if I play this beast, I am invincible.