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[Donna]

The pull of pale amber liquid slides down his parched throat.

Liquid desire soothes.

He clasps solace.

Wipes moisture beads from the bottleneck away with his fat thumb.

Sits back, "Cheers!" to man's best friend.

This game he's engaging in.

To the very end.

Nothing else matters------ not family nor career.

Such is his Manna, golden relief here.

 

He shuns them, their useless pleas.

"Fuck off!" he'll do as he pleases.

A wise eye sees.

His denying one disagrees.

It is his choice to make.

Leave if you can't take self-destructions sight.

The World he prefers let's him see the light.

To run, escape, and hide from guilt.

From all that truth his conscience has built.

 

Tossed his accolades and life long ago.

Occasionally he plays around with some Blow.

"Ha!  If they knew about that one they'd get off his back about the booze!"

"Friggin A-holes! I've got nothing to lose."

Those in his close circle forgive, love, and enable.

Powerless against demons he battles and tries to disable.

 

Every new war reminds him of the old one.

Thereabouts both sides lost, nobody won.

Where he was just a scared drafted kid, all alone.

Atrocities made him grow a crooked backbone.

Anger bittered and set his jawbone.

His heart turned to stone.

He returned but never came home.

©Donna H.

April 15, 2022