Break Time Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

Consumed with anger
and self-pity too 
I heard 
my wounded inner-toddler whine.
Before the vending crud machine 
I knew to poise above the C,  
to thumb the 9.
As good as chewed and flushed!  
'Oh God, I hate myself! ' 
I fed the bill. 
Without a doubt it sucked it up. 
I said, 'Now it's too late.'
My chin dropped 
as it spit the dollar out.
The jones-ing was still running
in my skull.
I pray to God to show his love 
and then...
My second thought 
was 'It's a miracle'
My first was 
'I can't put it in again.'
I bought a Diet Coke®. 
Then pinched my jaw.
Left feeling weird,  
yet with a kind of awe.