Awake and suffering

Blazing through the hellfire

Drinking my poison

Awareness at the edge of  reason

Making a path between the flames

Betrayed by the army I served

Wishing that my name was not

Printed on the wall of my prison cell

Finding the days full of

Fuel for the horizon desired

Scars seem like beautiful marks of love

Compared to the twisting my brain endures

And the ghosts come visit at every opportunity

Knowing that I live

Not a devil on one shoulder and

An angel on the other

They both look like demons to me

But I am not dead I am

Only just a few steps ahead

Of the blast radius of

This year’s dooming number

And the moon is the pretty face

Tempting me again

And I have a picture of my love

In my pocket


About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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