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Whiskey
It's so cold in this van but, the whiskey burns my throat all the way down and starts a fire in my belly
that will eat the cold burrowing into my chest making it impossible to breath.
The fire has become a constant knot that hurts in the morning and in the afternoon and in the evening
but, the whiskey will numb the ball of agony.
It's so dark in this van but, there isn't enough petrol to keep the beast running, a drink is what
I need to clear my head of these demons.
I am so tired but, where ever I lay my head down in this place is a thorn and monster under my bed
and the whiskey no longer quiets the noise.
More whiskey. More whiskey is the only answer.
It's so dark and cold and frightening in this place and I can not find a friend or a deity
to hold my hand while I sit alone and try to work out.
Where it all went so wrong.
A glass of whiskey will let me hold it while I tell it my sad tale and pour my desperation
down my throat where it will settle into that poisonous ball in my chest that tears at me all day and all night.
The pain needs to be dulled before it grows to the size of the horizon and eats me while I breath.
One more glass of whiskey will turn off the screaming in my ear, these voices from yesterday and tomorrow.
There were children out there for me, no?
The whiskey will answer all these questions and the many more that circle my head like a singed halo.
The van is empty but, for me and my bottle of whiskey which is all I need to make it through to morning when
I will stop drinking and make a clean fresh start and this time I will win.
After one more glass of whiskey.
Rola Phoenicia: "I have these words to give to you in hope they will offer a friend and beacon, a splinter
of light to pierce the night. I found inspiration and hope in using words to mold an original
canvas of self-expression and salvation in the vast ocean of life."
Visit me at Rola Pheonicia
Email: Rola Phoenicia
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