ADHD Dribblings: Poems & Thoughts From A Mind Lost In Motion

Well Cheese

I can't open this bottle
Of sparkling white grape juice.
My hand's turning red,
So desperately misused.

I've tried with my thighs,
Examined with fresh eyes.
But this bottle it seems,
May be my demise.

Nothing seems to work
And my hand, how it hurts.
As I tear at my flesh,
Just to get it to turn.

I just wanted replacement
With sweet bubbly nons.
But it's pushing me closer
To down my Black Box.

I keep twisting and gripping
And gripping and twisting,
As if things could change
With same actions engaged.

But despite all my vigor,
it stays just the same.
And I wish I had help,
Or a stronger hand's aim.

I've tried tapping its rim,
And disturbing its contents.
Adjusting its pressure,
To make its hold less intense.

You ask why I try?
This is all I woke to consume,
I tried a few carbs and canned protein
This late after noon.

I wasn't hungry,
As I rarely am.
A few bites' all I cared for
Despite loving cans.

Then I tried sleeping
In hopes that upon waking,
I'd feel human urges
To carry on living.

But I woke to one thing:
This bottled fake champagne.
And try as I might,
It stays just the same.

Bottled up.
Closed tight.
No air to let loose.
We shan't breathe easy,
As long as we're noosed.

No one to help me,
I regret living alone.
No one knows of our struggles.
No one else is at home.

So I'll try and I'll try,
In pale moon's waning light.
To drink up this nectar
And feign its delight.

I looked to the web,
And found holy reply.
Rubber bands
simulate stronger hands,
And replenish supply.

Now I'll drink til it's gone.
Again, tricking my body,
Into believing these liquids
Can be meals if it's trying.

Fill up with sweetness,
I can't stomach anything else.
Unless I am drinking,
And forgetting my health.

I'll reflect on nostalgia,
Where grape juice has its roots.
Every year we drank well cheese,
As thankful pre-alcoholics do.

We gripped at bottle caps,
And spun into leader's example.
Now sitting alone,
in our distant dark deserts.

And so I press on,
Like father, like daughter.
But tonight I throw back,
This here faux bottle.

And now, in my hand,
Is the sparkling and broken.
All blistered to hell,
As my hell's finally choken.

Cheers to the years,
And these distant Thanksgivings.
As I thank you all,
For my missed giving's misgivings.

🍾🍷🧀
11/20/21