Vomit

I can taste the fire spit before I throw up,

and see the love stains still left on our blankets.

Even after the vomit, 

the pit of dread hasn’t left my stomach.

The whole thing feels like the airbag exploded far before the accident,

like driving over a sheet of metal,

that destroys from the under carriage,

and slices within.

Where do you begin to help yourself when sickness isn’t only coming from within?

and the aching isn’t just from the alcohol,

but a weakness of the heart,

and somewhere deep within,

starting from the delta between your legs,

and seeping through to the marrow of what you know,

where do you begin?