The Waiting

I wake up mid-day
with a headache.
My hair is greasy and
my eyes are red.


I walk outside
and yawn
under a bright
afternoon sun.


I scratch my stomach,
walk inside
and daydream
as I stretch out in bed.


A million
crazy thoughts
ramble through
my jagged mind.


I wait for the phone
to ring;
no one ever
dials the number.


As the sun goes down,
I walk to A.A.
After the meeting,
I sit online
for hours.


Before bed,
I look at myself
in the mirror.
My skin is dry;
my eyeballs feel
like they are sinking
into my skull.


I'm waiting for you
to come back
home.