No Room

by Dan Smith

A voluntary slave to addiction,
Dependence born of tragic patterns
Of withdrawal heavier than hypocrisy;
You keep your demons away for five dollars a day.
All fundamentals of function
Crushed beneath the force of habit;
An admonition that a cup is only useful because of what is missing.

You spend the precious minutes of your morning pushing off,
Chasing daylight,
Praying to reach high enough to keep full the void
In the cells you've taught to stay empty.

Their thirst unyielding to the trappings of routine,
(A futile attempt in the false virtue of denial)
Your limbs drag like anchors
In tolerance worn and torn,
Unintended or ignored.

Your protection from burning comes unglued in the heat.