An orange light peaks through the window
Hatefully greets another day.
He pulls the red sleeping bag over his head
Wishing this nausea would subside.

Fresh scrapes across his knuckles
And violent, violet bruises on his knees—
Just another average morning
For this angry young man.

Stumble from the futon
Amongst the battle ground of empty cans,
Searching for lost left over liquid—
The only remedy he’s ever known

What some people call a disease,
He calls it the cure,
But there’s nothing there—
No more money, no other options—this is it.

Sipping on a cup of reality—
The bitter taste of defeat.
Tired of being tired
And sick of being sick.

Earthquake in his stomach,
A tectonic disturbance.
Heartburn made from magma,
A pyroclastic flow.

Dry heaves and convulsions
Above a porcelain *******.
He knows he needs to stop,
But no one likes a quitter.

I

Surrounded and submerged
By Darkness of the deep.
Berserk, I bounce below
Under the wild waves.
Distraught and in distress,
Making manic movements,
But before blacking out,
Emptiness envelops.
Finally free from fear.
Such sudden, silent sleep.

II

Poison *******—
Assaulted and abused.
Violent violation—
Coerced without consent.
Demolished and destroyed.
****** and dehumanized.
Growing god awful guilt
And losing lust for life.
****** survivor—
Dead and demoralized.

III

Tunneling thumbs dig deep
Inside my eye sockets.
Blood burst and starts to spurt.
Pupils pop—soundless scream.
Shaken, shocked and startled.
It’s finally come true.
Catastrophe confirmed.
Loss of light, lacking life.
Misty, murky milieu.
My domain of darkness.

Worthless, wasted wits.
Weak— with out wisdom.
Inebriation inevitable.
Unsealed, unburdened
Unstoppable urge.
Transformed—
Transcended,
Talents transpire.
Potion, pen, paper...
Producing power.
Carefully crafting
Clever Cuneiform.

My one true love, she calls my name.
I fly to her— like moth to flame—
She’s not at fault ‘cause I’m to blame.
It’s what I need— it’s not a game.

Gelastic jive— the way I talk—
I lost the key, but there’s no lock.
And even whilst mid zombie walk,
I recognize...  take careful stock.

From this madness comes frustrations—
They’re producing invitations
Through my liver, penetrations,
From the liquid fueled sensations.

She’s my goddess, a queen— divine.
Her purple prose, pray at her shrine,
Because of her I’m feeling fine...
Plus forty gulps of breakfast wine.

I’m cold as ice, paradise.
& I’ll watch you walk out that door—
like so many women have done before.  
I finally found my voice—
do not think I didn’t have a choice.  

Your mediterranean skin
& your bronze tones.
Roman empress— this Celtic warrior pays allegiance to you no longer
— because I’ve finally become stronger.  
W/ my blue eyes, deep as the Atlantic,
& my long, wild hair—
blowing in the wind w/ out a care.  

You look like a fairy tale.  
Those inviting looks & your soft, supple lips.  
Your curves & your edges—
& those gorgeous goddess hips.  

But like any fairy tale,
it is nothing more than a dream.  
It’s empty, like the calories in ice cream.  
There is nothing there, because you don’t care
& I can’t bare that we lost our flair,
but I have to wonder—
was it ever even there?