An instance in clarity.

I've gotten used to the loneliness,
gotten used to the cold in a lonely bed.
I got used to a spinning room as I'd awaken.
Memories of nights erased, days gone by
the hours drank away in the embrace of charred oak barrels.
Those days are such a blur now.
Those nights lost forever.
Now as I awaken, the bourbon stays on the table.
I'm waking up sober now.
sober now I'll watch the sunrise and can finally...
finally drink my coffee with steady hands...
steady hands which write again.
Clear eyes that can see again.
I've gotten used to the sunsets, the stars
the stars that watch me now, a tapestry of serenity
serenity I've been craving...I've gotten used to...
I've gotten used to not hurting...
Not hurting.