By Kevin Ridgeway
The semi-annual detox is in full swing,
water, vitamins, minerals and codeine
clutter the fold-out TV tray with bent legs
leaning against the rumpled man’s bed
The one-eyed cat has more muscle than you
he sinks his claws into your bulging stomach
and winks with his good eye,
the empty socket a vibrating red void
You get up and struggle to the food nook
the cat is still attached to your mid section
you fix him a morsel of juicy wet chunks
nestled in between your flapping sugared udders
You bite open a powdered beverage with electrolytes,
adolescent crack that you stir with your
pinkie finger in a jiffy of lower middle class self-help
still-dry flavor crystals bedazzling your upper lip hair
Time for a horrible endless reel
of Lifetime Movies for Grandma
the entertainment bulbs in the box glow
while you piss yourself in the dark.
Clutching at Straws 