closer to the brink

Inching ever closer to the brink,
I try to tame the mind.
It’s a losing battle,
Sometimes wonder why I bother.
Mind builds and creates,
Smashes and destroys,
But does so indiscriminately.
Woke up drunk again today,
Still not quite hung over just yet.
What did I do this time?
Why do I feel so guilty?
It’s always something,
Always something to hide,
Something to forget.
Scrub the memories from my brain,
But the stains never go away.


We cut across the northern suburbs of Detroit,
Driving down Interstate 696,
Carved into the landscape thirty years ago.
Staring at the vertical walls,
Catching short glimpses of houses
Every now and again.
Are the walls meant to keep us out
Or to keep the people in?
Beyond the walls, beyond the grass embankments,
I know there are houses and cities.
I grew up just south of there,
Traveled the checkerboard streets
Just north of Detroit.
I sucked in the industrial gloom,
Felt the oppressive heat of the segregated cities.
Everything has grown older, smaller, dirtier
In the twenty years since I lived there.
I lumbered down these broken streets,
In my uncle’s hand-me-down 1976 Ford cargo van,
Praying for deliverance but wishing for death.