I’m compiling a list
of everything I want to consume
during my recovery.
It’s filled with
books I’ve been putting off,
movies I always meant to watch,
games I’m curious about,
and the occasional album.
I’m setting aside
a full month of my life
dedicated to narcotics and media.
What’s not on the list
is anything resembling food,
which,
as a self-proclaimed foodie,
naturally disturbs me.
But I’m not sure
if I’ll be awake enough
to eat the ideas I want,
much less find space
in a morphine-sick stomach
for ceviche.
.
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Published on April 13, 2013 07:30