Cursed

Every once in awhile

that tiny voice appears

whispering assurances

in my ear

that one cup would be enough.

Just pour a little bit

sip it fast

so no one will see.

Feel the rush through my veins

as I embrace

sweet oblivion.

I thrust fingers through my eyes

gouging for that voice;

I want to rid myself of torment

abrade the thirst

that itches beneath the surface.

It is agony,

the curse visited by forefathers

upon the innocence of life

breaking our spirits,

with spirits.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

January 21/18

Win or Lose

With quiet disregard

I leave it all behind

floating away

so the pain

no longer can hold.

Tears unfallen

litter my lashes

a tiny sneer

adorns my lips,

blackness welling up

ready to eat.

Huddled in the corner

easing away from the scare

death would be far easier

than staying here.

Fighting for a life

for a dream

that I have had since a child

maybe I will win

maybe I will lose

but at least I will have tried.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

January 18/18