standing for nothing in particular

i wish i was drinking, still.

stopped for no righteousness,
no pure desires;
no health reasons.

stopped because the alcohol
lost its effect–

turned into grape juice.
and expensive for only grape juice!

so i wish i was drinking, still.
wish alcohol worked anymore.

apparently my system decided that’s it,
and would no longer get drunk–
oh well.

i miss the reward system;
the feeling of being adult;
(i never finished rebelling)
and it’s a delicious feeling
…the smooth glass, the chill of ice;
the verification that I have arrived
to this milestone
that was so forbidden,

so scoffed…and every elegant person
drank,

but now no easy way
to sign off a prim wagon.

it’s like conscripted goodness,
when i truly would not have bothered
with this show.

part of me laughs
at being exemplary to state,
“sober for 5 years now!”–
like taking credit for shrugging;

for using the breast stroke on the herd
to keep your head above conformity.

sober is such a subjective concentration of belying condescention:
such a release of convoluted forgetfulness!
i was never NOT sober
when drunk.

it didn’t bother me to be less.

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