eyes staring forward
refusing to hear
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
vile is poison
spit upon faces
my anger does begin to rise.
let’s play with the demon stick.
souls will be mine.
Heads will roll
only those who have destroyed
who have maimed
vengeance will be taken.
Picture via Pinterest
Day 13 of not drinking.
I have discovered the third benefit to being sober.
It is not that I don’t write as I do.
Ideas do not flow though so easily.
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.
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.
Picture is my own