sober and undrugged rehearse the words in my head
to my wife in the kitchen “I’ll have a cup a coffee,
Please, love,” but instead hear myself say
“Ittlebut wattleap…” recognise nonsense so apologise with a “Spiotonapom”
I see my right hand side as a grey blur,
my left hand side is clear and sharp,
my headaches. I can’t communicate.
I wobble as my brain sloshes one
side of my skull to the other until I sit.
“Another panic attack?” asks my wife.