A River That Runs Through Every Place I'Ve Never Been

mom always told me to be aware of my surroundings / especially if I ever found myself in the dark / if my stomach ever burned of a thing stronger than hunger / down the alleys to get to my places / I've stared into no one's eyes / before I realize that mine were just closed & the back of my eyelids has been the darkness since my first blink / I can't avoid what I've never seen / became the darkness just to salvage peace / I can't fight / put my optimism away / behind the fridge locked in the liquor cabinet / that far away / next to those stale cigarettes & the bottle of gin that hasn't been gin since I drained it into a water bottle & stuck the neck under a running tap / I owe God more than the forgiveness I ask / instead I fill things / with resin ash & promise that kept walking / the drunken slurs that carry me to divinity / I try not to plead him for help / I've held my mother's advice all along / but never her hands with those long fingers that only feel safe when they are intertwined & sending something up / dear God / I'm selfish so I will not bring you into this / you would rather see my legs crossed / hands behind my head / floating down a river somewhere far away from dim-lit cracked streets where business men in hooded jackets sell tiny clear bags / you have yet to bless me with a legal age on my ID / bars are places I cannot go / so I meander slowly behind them / this is part of the game isn't it? pre-rehabilitation / mom sitting on the couch every time I come home / talk to her with sin in my pocket & fire on my breath / write some poetry / soothe those burning things / the wall I've lain brick by brick / horizontal in the sky / only have a few more days work left in the pile / soon there will be nothing but what I can't undo / next to me / panting low / like a candle that melts every last bit of wax before it's glass cup shatters / & I try to fill the shards with something dark / & I pretend like I know God's address / & I send a sloppy box full of words that reek of gin / straight up / right to him / wishing it gets lost in the post / or gets stuck behind the wall I've been building / but really what I want is him to open it / disregard the filthy contents / & dump them into the river / after I've already bathed in it / after I've made friends with the current / after I'm so far downstream the dark things will sink before they ever reach me / & I grow into my mother's hands as my fingers start to prune