90 Days

C-c-c-compulsion.

Lock the car
door three times.
Check the backseat for Bad
Men, and
lock lock lock
the doors.

One pill was never enough.
Multiples of three,
six pills, nine, eighteen
just enough
not enough
to  get me there.

Waking up with my shoes on
lying on the floor,
head pounding,
my mouth tasting like liquor
and sex and cigarettes and vomit
whatthefuckdididothistime?

I asked God to remove the
c-c-c-compulsion
from me, and
He did.
Today,
I am
free.

Three months later,
ninety short days,
ninety long nights,
I walk in love.
I teach
Torah to children, and
I pray for my brother.
My dogs do not fear me, and
I don’t fear the police.
I am whole.
I am good.
I am clean.
I am pure.
I am light.

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