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
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