Angel of Pain

Hard
eyes staring forward
mouth
stretched thin
ears
blocked
refusing to hear
anguished cries
behind muffled doors
deep breath in
deep breath out
to break free
would mean to kill the mission.
With each use
thought they would learn
death comes to the wicked
when I am around.
How could these men
hiring me so
not realize
not see
the connection…..
one
two
three.
Words
vile is poison
lashing
degrading
spit upon faces
bewildered
children only
my anger does begin to rise.
Four
five
six
let’s play with the demon stick.
Seven
eight
nine
souls will be mine.
Ten
no more racism.
Heads will roll
not mine
not theirs
only those who have destroyed
who have maimed
vengeance will be taken.
©July 31/20
Picture via Pinterest

Third Benefit

Day 13 of not drinking.
I have discovered the third benefit to being sober.
Creativity.
It is not that I don’t write as I do.
Ideas do not flow though so easily.
Brain clears.
Whoomp!
Fire all neurons into the imagination zone and let her go.
I have ideas all the time.
My poems are coming more clearly within moments of seeing the Word of the Day Challenge. (Today’s is a hard one needing to mull)
Each day forward is a win.
Each time I defeat that voice (the one that tried to tell me wine was not really alcohol)-squashed in its tracks is a win.
Each day I look in the mirror I see clearer eyes and skin.
Not looking haggard.
My hair is feeling less crispy.
And all the soda bloat is disappearing.
Total win.
Cataloguing the wins is easy to do.
Cataloguing the ills even easier to do.
I am stronger than this addiction.
I will always be stronger than this addiction.
I will never let this addiction win again.
©July 31/20
Picture is my own
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