Oh the (dark) places we go,
if only Dr. Seuss could remedy all,
perhaps the quiet abyss might no longer,
contain the strength,
the grasp sometimes
inherent in my every step,
the outlook of my day.
I sometimes wonder the strength of my addictions,
are the reason I move slowly,
perhaps in reason the justification
of lost principle,
allows me to wallow in my
sad and lonely way.
I’ve made mistakes,
they are plain to see,
unless you wouldn’t know me,
then maybe,
I could walk around in circles,
seem,
a bit more mistake free.
It is an inherent trait in our society,
to judge the person on your left and right,
in order some would argue,
to set your own demons free,
or am I only speaking of me.
I sometimes reflect on a world
of alcohol and drugs,
oh the sweet nectar
of setting myself apart
from every
symbol I felt of hope and faith.
The gambling arm,
set in tone the rest of me,
and for the little time I’d known,
I would seek refuge there,
only to come to terms,
with another bottle of scotch,
with an endless pour.
There is something remarkably beautiful
about peace,
peace of mind,
a peace to build our hopes upon.
finding peace,
inside the miracle of time.
I look to find all the faces,
that disturb my sleep,
in the middle of the night,
left staring at a wall,
rather safe than closing my eyes,
to once again,
know,
in the middle of a dream,
would there be an onslaught …
faces on demons.
We might suppose,
they’ll always be there,
quiet reminders,
like skeletons with favorite postures,
we liken them all,
to our own sheltered storm,
inside an expression at the county fair,
won’t allow a soul,
to imagine any other pain,
otherwise.
Occasionally when walking alone,
I do,
I choose with earnest,
to put my own,
face on demons,
I suppose it may appear absurd,
but rather than in a crowd,
I can own my own expression,
no longer under a shroud.
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