anonymous apology

it takes a drunk to know another drunks burden, that bridges the drinking, crosses the problem, erases the solution, that no one wants to taint their hands in, sometimes it takes a bleeding ulcer, to bring together a near-fatal relationship of a father and son, that has gone when the fists couldn’t break through a seventeen year mirror, anymore alcoholics anonymous and all the 24-hour urgencies and treatment; drinkline, helpline, pink floyd supportline, newsvine, the critics of a crisis ambiance, all falling short of christ sometimes it takes the half of a brain of an ant, that walks across white typing paper, thinking unseen, carrying something 3-times its size in its jaws, until a ball-point pen traces and runs over its tiny body on the word, destitute when the flow of ink skittles into a clear fluid of legs and antennas, heart, venom and digestive system; all meshed and dismembered into the next word, remains.